Deep: Theodore Grey
by taigasanchez
Summary: Jillian "Ziggy" Pierce has been tormented her entire life by the deceivingly charming boy next door. Theodore Grey.
1. Chapter 1

**Jillian**

"You're spacing again, Jill." Someone snaps. Absently, I shuffle in my chair before I hear the sound of glass shattering near my feet.

"Oh crap!" I squeal because alas—I've broken another test tube. That makes 4 this week if I've been keeping track. This is of course not counting the Petri dishes or the beakers. "I'm so sorry Ash." I hurry over to the closet where we keep all the lab equipment, snatching up my broom. Yes, it's _my_ broom. I've made a habit out of this, and by _this_ I mean breaking everything I touch. Carlos even went through the trouble of writing my name on a piece of masking tape and mending it around the handle.

I start sweeping my mess into the dust pan, careful not to miss any pieces. "Jill." Ash says tiredly, she presses her hand to my shoulder and I turn around swiftly, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose as they come loose.

"My mind was elsewhere." I smile sheepishly before quickly resuming the task at hand.

She doesn't let it end there like I hoped she would. "You don't say? What is going on with you lately? Your head is completely in the clouds! It's so unlike you to space out this much."

I let out a flat sigh. I couldn't answer that even if I knew how to. "It's just with my dissertation coming up, I—"

"Oh come off it, Jill. You and I both know that your research is flawless, there's no way they would even think of denying you your Ph.D. Try giving me a more feasible excuse."

"I'm a scientist Ash, thinking is what I do for a living. Give it a rest already. I'm fine, okay?" I grumbled. "Look, all clean!" The floor is spotless again, unless you count the scuff marks from shoes and other random speckles of forgotten materials.

"What if that vial had corrosive fluid in it? You need to be more careful. Get your head out of your ass already."

I bite down on my lip, staring at her intensely before moving to the glass disposal bin to dump the shattered pieces away. "Alright."

"Jesus." She snarls.

"No, just me." I said drly. She rolled her eyes and resumed her work at the table across from me.

The university is finally offering me my dissertation after 2 long years of dedicated research on self-mutating bacterium. My cultures have more than exceeded expectations, and I've managed to cultivate several other civilizations, creating hundreds of opportunities for mutation. Ash would often call me 'The Cure', firmly believing that I was the next path of human evolution.

I smile at the idea.

I wouldn't go that far, but what I've been working on is more or less my livelihood, even though it hasn't really been that long. I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life. These germs are basically my children, and since children are basically walking, talking germs I'm not so far off from being a mother, here.

Pride swells in my chest. Ill-obtained pride, but pride none-the-less. "I'm going to work on my papers." I call out to Ash as I tuck the remainder of my cultures back into their arthropods and slide them into the freezer.

She flashes a smile back at me, her blue eyes glowing with mischief as she flicks one of her test tubes until the clear liquid turns into a bright yellow. "We should get lunch first."

My nose scrunches. "Why do you have a plotting expression?"

"Plotting? Me? Don't be silly." She places the tube back into its holder and peels her latex gloves off before tossing them into the bin. She pulls her goggles over her head before giving me a wink. "Come on, let's eat. You can work on your paper in the caf."

My eyes narrow in suspicion but I didn't protest, instead shrugging off my lab coat and hanging it on the rack behind me. I gather all of my things and run to the door as Ash holds it open for me, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Sorry," I grumble and then slump my heavy backpack onto my shoulders.

"Stop apologizing all the time."

"Sorr—" I catch myself, not even realizing how easily the word fell from my mouth. Jeez.

She snaps her eyes over to me and I smile innocently back.

Ash holds her tray in her hand tightly as we navigate our way through the buzzing dining hall, sneering at anyone who threatens to knock the food from her hands.

"Here!" I call out finally, setting my tray down on a clean, empty table tucked at the back of the massive cafeteria.

She squirms between two tables tucked too close together, not even bothering to excuse herself when she elbows some wide-eyed girl who's minding her own business.

"Ash!" I admonish, apologizing to the angry blonde on her behalf.

Ash ignores me, setting her tray on the table before dumping her pink and black striped Victoria's Secret tote over the squeaky chair.

"Is it just me or do you seem extra testy today." My tone is dry as I stare at her annoyed expression.

She reaches over to my tray and grabs a few of napkins before running them across the table surface. "I didn't think it would be so crowded today." She grumbles menacingly.

A small smile curves my lips as I chew my green beans. "It's lunchtime, of course it crowded." She glares at me. "You're the one who wanted to come here!" My tone is filled with as much exasperation as it is humor.

Ash is a germaphobe, which I know, contradicts her profession vehemently. She grows AIDS and bovine spongiform encephalopathy in a jar for a living for Pete's sake. Her goal of course is the search for a definitive cure. Have you ever heard of something more hilarious? A germaphobe who works with germs. Her germaphobia is what makes her personality interesting to me.

That and the fact that she curses like a sailor.

"Fucking pigs." She sneers.

Aaaaand…there it is. I glance at my wrist watch. Almost a minute and 30 seconds…that's a new record.

She glares at the way the napkin stuck to the table, possibly from spilt juice or soda before promptly whipping out her sanitizer and practically dousing her hands with it.

I sigh, dropping my plastic fork on the plate. "We can just go." I stand, taking my tray with me.

She quickly looks up at me, standing abruptly. "No I'm fine. Sit." She assures before pulling a tight smile.

I felt one of my brows twitch. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing!"

With warning evident, I say, "Ash…"

Her eyes slide from mine and over my shoulder before finally settling on me again. "Jill, sit." Her voice is lower this time, her eyes urging me to listen.

My brows pull in so tightly I feel a strain in my forehead. She's being odd right now. Well…odd _-er._ More bizarre than usual, I think.

Warily, I look over my shoulder to the area where her eyes travelled, and none to my surprise Kevin is scanning the cafeteria, food in hand.

"You're horrible." I say as soon as I turn back to the growing smile on her face. She holds a hand up to beckon him forward.

"Kevin! Over here!" And I just know that he's walking over to us now so I don't bother to check.

"I have this uncontrollable urge to lick your face right now."

"Jill," She begins, but I shut her down quickly.

"That guy doesn't like me." I say through clenched teeth. "You're _still_ trying to set me up with him? _Seriously_?"

"Don't be so modest, Jillian. Of course he's into you. Give in already! He's cute." Her tone growls at that last word for emphasis.

"Then you date him." I seethe. "What's in this for you, huh? You bribe him?" My eyes narrow into slits.

"When was the last time you touched a man? Handshakes don't count." She goads, her tone quickening with every syllable.

"Hey ladies." A smooth voice calls from behind me.

I'm so irritated I can't even be bothered to turn around because he'd catch the stink face that I'd reserved specially for my prying friend. "Hi Kevin." I throw over my shoulder.

"Hey _Kevin_! Funny seeing you here today." Ash lilts and I don't even attempt to hide the disdain that mars my features.

"Really? Funny seeing him in the school that he goes to in the lunchroom that he eats in everyday?" I say dryly.

"Jill." He greets before settling right beside me in the chair closest to the wall. None of us speak for the longest time and the uncomfortable silence swells.

"So Kevin!" Ash finally says, breaking through the dread. "I heard about your work with the electron lasers, you must be so proud." Ash pushes for a brief moment before quickly taking a sip of her iced tea, eyes volleying between the two of us.

"Uh, yeah it's been great actually. We have a lot of free-range microscope trials to run through. Other than that were fully operational. Took us months."

Ash looks at me then, her eyes widening into dinner plates. She flicks her corneas in his direction with the most imperceptible of motions. "I could show you if you'd like…" Kevin offers.

For some reason, could be because of his direction of speech and body language but who knows, it feels like that offer is more for me than Ash…the one who actually _brought it up_.

I clear my throat, still chewing the cauliflower I'd just shoved in my mouth not a second before.

He's going to flex his fancy lab equipment on me? Do I look like some easily impressed, horny wide-eyed undergrad? "I'd love to Kevin," I lie. "But I'm really busy lately with my—"

"With your dissertation, yeah I know. I saw your paper on the schools database…it's _really_ good."

That took me by surprise. "Oh. Well thank you."

I don't know exactly why an experimental physicist would have any interest in bacteria mutation or microbiology period, but it quickly dawns on me that he maybe only looked into it so he'd have something to talk to me about.

Kevin smiles at me and out of embarrassment I look away. It's not that he isn't cute and all, because he definitely _is_. He's not too tall but well-built with a kind face and warm brown eyes that could make any woman swoon.

I just get the overwhelming sensation that perhaps after a long conversation he'd figure out how misguided his advancements are, and that scares the hell out of me.

I gather my things and the chair squeaks with protest as I push away from the table. "I have a lot of work to do, guys. Enjoy your meals!"

"Jill…" Ash warns, her tone desperate.

"Ash…" I mock before turning and walking away.

xxx

My Saturdays usually consisted of me slumping through my apartment clad in Winnie the Pooh PJ's and slippers with a cup of hot chocolate. Sometimes I would bother to get off the couch to adjust the thermostat, but for the most part I slept, ate, and then slept more.

The life of a grad student is not one that I'd really envisioned. I thought for sure it would be all glamour and no rules, but so far the only thing that independence has offered me is loneliness. Even more loneliness than I'd had before I got to California. I was tired of being tired all the time. Most days were just me sliding lazily out of bed and running out of the house with little care to my appearance to get to classes, then slugging to the open lab afterwards with a half-dead aura radiating from me. Post-brain failure, pre-rigor mortis.

I flip through the television for something good to watch, finding nothing. I click to Netflix, Hulu, etc—watched everything.

Sad.

"Seriously?" I pout to myself.

My cellphone whistles from somewhere and I scan the couch for it. I run my hands between the cushions over and over until I finally spot it on the floor at my feet. Bending over, I snatch it up and scroll through my text messages.

It's from my older sister, Jane. I also notice that I've missed about 4 calls from her.

 **Dad needs to talk to you. Call him.**

You have _got_ to be kidding me. I roll my eyes and contemplate chucking my phone at the wall. Instead I clench my teeth and begin tapping out a reply.

 **If it was really that important he would call me himself, don't you think?**

I toss my phone to the other side of the couch before settling back in place, cranking the volume up louder and ignoring the pang of guilt in my stomach, knowing that it's not imperative. My father hasn't exactly been a beacon of warmth for me all these years. In fact, the most affection he's shown me has been the day I moved away from home when he gave me a brief, cold, and unenthusiastic hug.

I've spent years trying to convince myself that I don't need his love, but the indifferent front I put on is marred by my sensitivity to even speaking with him over the _phone_.

The device whistles across from me again and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head once again, this time so forcefully it actually hurts.

 _Ignore it, Jillian. Today is a 'you' day, don't seek ways to stress yourself out._

I curl myself up into the corner of the couch and keep my eyes trained on the TV.

After a while of constantly glancing at the now darkened screen I gave in and let out an exasperated growl, reached over and grabbed the phone. When the notification on the lock screen lit up I felt my world collapse around me.

 **Mom is sick.**

xxx

I was on the next flight to Seattle, Washington that day. I ran through every possible scenario in my head, desperately clinging to the hope that my mother was alright. My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn't keep my mind occupied throughout the entire flight, constantly tapping my feet and touching whatever I could get my hands on.

 _Please just let her be okay._

I got to Seattle General with nothing but my cellphone and wallet in hand, too panicked to even pack anything. "Excuse me," I say to the receptionist behind the desk at ER. She looks up at me and smiles, an expectant look on her face "I'm looking for Olivia Pierce—"

"Friend or family?" She asks.

"I'm her daughter."

"One moment, dear." She says sweetly before scanning her computer.

"Ziggy!" I turn around only to be greeted with my brother's surprised face.

"Lance!" I run to embrace him. He hugs me back before pulling away and holding me at arms-length.

"I didn't know you were in town." He says frantically.

My head is spinning. "I just got here not even an hour ago. Where is mom?" I ask, my voice breaking.

He takes my wrist in his hand and leads me somewhere in the left wing. We approach a door and I quickly push it open, revealing several familiar faces slowly turning back to me.

"Ziggy." Jane gasps. She stands and runs over to me, locking her arms around my neck and squeezing tightly.

Over her shoulder I could see our mom lying there, her body motionless with several cords and tubes snaking through her veins, hooked up to various machines on the hospital bed. She looks…not like my mom. This wasn't the vibrant, radiant beautiful creature who raised me. I barely even recognize this person.

No longer able to hide my wariness anymore, I begin all-out sobbing as Jane pulls away from me. "Shhh," She coos before hugging me to her again.

"What's going on?" I ask shakily. Lance had settled into the chair that Jane abandoned. He grabs mom's hand and squeezes it in his.

No one said anything. Not my aunt, not my godmother Cheryl, or even uncle Erwin, who was usually so talkative that it drove us all to near insanity. I look around at the empty lifeless faces and my eyes land on my father who is standing on the other side of the room, hands in his pockets as he stares out the window.

I slip out of Jane's embrace and storm over to him. "What's wrong with her?" I demand with a fire in my heart.

He looks back at the sound of my voice, eyes hazy and unfocused. "Jillian?"

"Yes dad, it's me…your least favorite child." I say menacingly with tears still rolling down my face, ignoring the pain that those words caused me, and point back. "What is wrong with my mother?"

If he noticed what I said before…he pretends not to, simply turning back around. "I told your sister to have you call me, you didn't have to come. I know how busy you must be with all your…whatever it is you're doing in California."

I reel back in horror, completely dumbfounded. If there is one thing that I will remember my father for above anything else, it's the sheer brazenness of his disregard for me. I'd always been positive, even as a child, that if I ever died—he wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

"Why would I not be here? And why would you not call me yourself? Do you really hate me that much?"

He looks back at me again, cold green eyes giving me that usual disapproval that has been rooted in my psyche since before I knew what emotions were. His coldness was something that never managed to grow on me, but it is something that I learned to live with. However right now, it just makes me feel as if he's never even _liked_ me.

"I don't hate you, Jillian. If I did you wouldn't be here right now. Don't ever forget that."

"You have a _really_ funny way of showing it." I croak, still wiping the angry tears away from my face.

"What are your expectations exactly? Would you like me to coddle a 25-year-old woman? You're too old to be still singing this song. And dry your face—you look like a florid balloon."

"Father, please—" Jane snaps, pulling me away. I suck in a deep breath, relieved to be away from that negativity if only for a moment. She holds me in place and scans my expression, searching for something. "You look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in 10 years, Ziggs." She says sadly before running a finger across my cheek. "Why do you do this to yourself? What are you trying to prove?"

I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. "Jane…I like what I do. Why can we not leave it at that?" Jane loves to give me crap about my work and schooling every time we talk. It's almost like a tradition. Every time, she asks me to quit school and move home and every time, I tell her no.

She sighs but doesn't push the issue, there are more pressing matters, clearly. "The cancer came back." She says finally and as if on cue, my heart falls out of my body. She pulls me close and squeezes me tightly. "They said it's going to be an even harder battle this time."

I feel her warm tears on my shoulder and begin to shake, hugging her back as I try to stay calm and be a rock for her, but I cant.

Not this time.

xxx

I intended to spend all weekend at the hospital and wait for my mother to wake up but she was out cold. They'd induced her into a coma to fight the pain.

I couldn't believe the gall of my father, he'd been in this hospital for a total of 30 minutes. Does he even care that his wife is on her death bed right now?

He never appreciated my mom, he doesn't deserve her. He's a cruel man.

"Why is he not here?" I growl.

Lance lifts his head from the hospital bed and looks at me. His eyes are sunken in and he looks exhausted. "Dad can't stand to see mom like this, Ziggs, you know that."

"Bullshit."

He shakes his head before resting it at moms hand again, holding it in his own. I bite my lip and pull my knees into my chest.

"You didn't pack any clothes did you?" Lance asked tiredly.

I didn't, but I'm not going to leave. "I'm fine."

He lifts his head again. "Go get some clothes...and some sleep." He grumbles.

I look around the hospital room and then glance at my phone for the time. It's just a little past 3. Everyone has already gone home except for Lance and me.

Lance is the baby of the 4 of us, only 20 years old and the last time I checked he didn't really seem to have a plan for his life. He kind of just mopes around our parent's house dicking around, smoking weed and occasionally skipping town with his loser friends to god-knows-where. He's in college but it's his 2nd year and he's _still_ undecided as far as I know.

I chance a bit. "What are you doing lately?"

He gives me a confused face.

I elaborate. "With your life."

Lance rolls his eyes as the meaning behind my words finally sink in. "You really wanna give me a lecture about my future right now?"

"Lance, I care about you and I just want—"

"Well don't!" He yells, standing so abruptly that the chair slides from beneath him before flipping over and slamming against the floor. "I don't need your damn pity, or Jane's, or Blane's. I don't want to run the family company and I don't want to dissect monkeys either!" He gestures at me with that last part.

I exhale a sigh because…that's not what I do at all. And if he honestly thinks that dad is just going to continue to let him mooch in the family house without working or making any real efforts in school he's insane.

"Listen, you need to calm down…right now." I say matter-of-factly and motion for him to sit down.

"I'm sorry Ziggy. I'm sorry that I'm not a genius like you, or the perfect son like Blane is, or as prim and proper as Jane. I'm not shit and I know it. I don't need you reminding me of how useless I am every single time we talk." He turns and storms out of the room before I even got the chance to correct him.

I hold my face in my palms, completely exhausted from crying, from the flight, and from the all-nighters I've been pulling at school for the last 3 months trying to get my dissertation together so that I can graduate. The stress is consuming me. I'm going to start sprouting gray hair's at any moment now.

I look at my mother's lifeless face and feel my throat tighten. "I wish you were here. You always know just what to say." I whisper. "I'm a terrible sister."

xxx

I wasn't allowed to stay at the hospital overnight. She was only allowed one guest and my aunt Carol had beaten me to the punch.

I click on the light in my old bedroom, surprised that everything was exactly the way I'd left it, not a single book or stray hairpin out of place. I try not to come home on holidays, my father doesn't seem to care if I do or don't anyway. So I've been away for a little over 7 months now.

For some reason though, it feels longer.

I pull my comforter back, amazed that the sheets were fresh and warm.

"Miss Jillian." A familiar voice lilts from behind me. I turn around and I'm greeted with a big smile.

"Hi Yvette." I say shyly and then stiffen when she comes in for a hug.

She looks at me for a moment. "You look so different. Mostly dead."

I sigh but don't argue with that statement because I'm sure that I do. After being told by not 1, not 2, but 3 people in one day that I look like crap—I stop being offended and start being aware. "You changed my sheets?" I ask her, nodding back to my old bed.

She nods. "Every week, ma'am."

"Thanks. Uh…could you," I looked down at my PJ's and fail at hiding my embarrassment. "I don't have any clean pajama's lying around do I?"

She crosses to the drawer and pulls out a pair of baby blue silk shorts and a matching tank top before lying them on the bed for me. "There are clean towels in the closet in your bathroom."

"Thanks, Yvette."

"Are you hungry?" She asks with an expectant look on her face.

"Not really, no." I grumble.

"Let me know if you need anything then." And then she's gone, the door click shut behind her softly.

After a quick shower I do some serious detoxifying to wipe the exhaustion from my face. I'd manage to get rid of the dark circles beneath my eyes, lucky that they weren't too deep. My skin looks a hell of a lot better than it did earlier. My eyes, which looked like my fathers in every way—a weird greenish-blue color, contrasted against the suppleness of my firm cheeks. I feel as if I've scrubbed off a years' worth of stress, but it was well worth the hour and a half.

Afterwards, I'm in my PJ's and heading down the stairs in search of a warm glass of milk before bed.

As soon as my foot hits the landing of the stairs the doorbell chimes.

I snap my head to the entryway, staring at the front door a few feet away.

I look around for Yvette, fidgeting nervously, waiting for her to come answer but a while after the doorbell pings again I assume that she's preoccupied. With all the enthusiasm drained from my body, I slump over to the door and unbolt the lock, pulling it open.

A pair of blue and gray eyes stared back at me as I held the door open, dumbfounded. "Oh my goodness. Jillian is that you?" She says, her voice filled with awe.

"It has to be her." He affirms, his eyes trained on me. He scratches his jaw a bit, a warm smile on his face.

"I haven't seen you since you were," She holds up a hand, indicating me when I was maybe 2 to 3 inches shorter. "You're still so beautiful, look at you." I blush at her compliment, my eyes finding to the floor briefly.

She smiled at me, her bright blue orbs gleaming.

Those eyes.

My breath catches in my throat as the memories flood back to me. Painful, terrible memories that I've suppressed for a long time. Memories that I've tried to bury and never think of again. But as soon as I'm reminded of his existence, it all hits me again like a freight train. It is incredibly disconcerting how much they look like him…both of them. They're like puzzle pieces of two completely different mediums.

My mouth opens and closed a few times before I finally find the voice hidden somewhere beneath the cacophony of fear and desecration. "Mr. and Mrs. Grey." I say bashfully, hoping to all that is good above that my voice didn't tremble as much as I think it did. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Mrs. Grey's eyes turn sad then. "We heard about your mother and we came to give our blessings." She holds up a pie in a glass container before extending it to me.

"Oh," I say as I take it from her gratefully with a smile. "Thank you so much Mrs. Grey. Please come in." I motion behind my back.

"Who is it?" My father's voice drifts through the house from the top of the stairs. "Who the hell is knocking at my door this late?!" I glare over my shoulder even though I can't see him yet. I didn't even know he was home. He had this nasty habit of locking himself inside of his study and the family wouldn't see him for days on end. Ever since he retired and gave the company to Blane he's become somewhat of a recluse, only leaving the house for social events and emergencies.

"Yvette?! Got damn it!" He yells and then appears at the top of the stairs. I cover my face in embarrassment.

When he sees who I'm standing with his annoyed expression quickly morphs to an apologetic, welcoming one. "Christian, Ana!"

He holds out his arms and pulls them both into a hug simultaneously. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Your sister called me about Olivia. We're so sorry Victor." Mrs. Grey says shyly.

"Crying out loud, you didn't have to go out of your way." He grumbles, but I could tell he was appreciative.

Mr. Grey waves him off. "We live right down the road Vic, it's not out of the way even a little bit."

I'm sure my father meant 'out of the way' as in making him a pie and bringing it to our house in the middle of the night, not a 1 ½ minute drive to our house from your own.

I dismiss my petty thoughts before turning at the heel and taking the pie into the kitchen with me while they caught up in the den. I set it down on the counter and pad over to the fridge in search of the milk, deciding instead to just gulp it straight from the carton with the hope that it will make me sleepy.

"Jillian, get in here!" My father's crude voice beckons me. I wipe my moist mouth with the back of my hand and bite my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him that I'd rather not speak to him at the moment. Instead of fulfilling my personal wishes I slump into the den with my shoulders low.

Mrs. Grey smiles at me when she catches sight of how tired and uninterested I must look. "How's your research going, dear?" She asks. "We won't keep you long."

I shake my head, settling on the arm of the couch where my father sits, across from them. "It's not a problem at all ma'am. Thank you for asking. My work is going pretty well actually. I'm entering my dissertation at the moment."

"Wow." She says simply. "It seems like just yesterday you were at our house, tutoring Phoebe in chemistry and…what was the other thing?"

"Calculus." Mr. Grey pipped in.

She snaps her fingers excitedly. "Calculus. That was it. Such a clever girl you are. Good work, really." I glance over to my father swirling amber liquid around in his crystal tumbler. He takes a drag of it before setting it on the coffee table at his feet.

Not even a flinch?

Mr. Grey whistles, his expression an impressed one. "Only 25 and you're already getting your Ph.D. That's simply insane." He looks to my father then. "You and Olivia must be so proud."

My father throws a look over his shoulder at me. "Come on, Christian—what she's doing…it's not going to turn a profit anytime soon. She's just trying to get a rise out of me." He laughs then. I take a deep breath, ignoring the nausea that rose in my stomach.

Such a kind and loving man, my father is.

"I'm…really tired. I think I'll turn in for the night." I say finally.

"Oh of course, you get some sleep." Ana stands up and comes into me for a hug, squeezing tightly. "Do what makes you happy, dear. And make sure you take care of yourself, okay?" She whispers in my ear and I give her an unenthusiastic nod.

When I finally get back to my room I collapse in my bed, pulling the comforter over my head, ready for sleep to take me prisoner.

xxx

"Phoenix, Arizona." Lance said suddenly.

My eyes drifted to where he stood by the flowerpots at the corner of the store. I took a deep breath and willed my attitude to cease at once. "What?"

"There's this flower shop in Phoenix, Arizona that sells glow in the dark roses. Haven't you been listening to me?"

I kind of looked at him sideways for a moment. "Let's just say for the hell of it I wasn't listening to you. Let's pretend that I never listen to a thing you say for the next month or so…Do you _really_ think that I'll miss something important?"

"Yeah…you're a cunt." He said with a smile. "Can you measure the urgency and relevancy in that statement, big sis?"

I turned back around and continued the perusal of assorted flowers in front of me. The flower shop that was a few minutes away from our house, Red and Blue, was locally owned and had the most beautiful daisies and tulips I'd ever seen anywhere. Sometimes when I was a teenager I would come here and nag Mrs. Geoffrey to let me help water them. Eventually she let me work here as a part-time job, and whenever I come back to Washington I never fail to drop by and say hello. However, today's visit was not exactly a joyous reunion.

"Is he still running his mouth over there?" Ms. Geoffrey asked, her shaky and weathering voice painting a mock annoyance.

I threw a smile over my shoulder. "Does he ever stop?"

When I turned back around, Lance flashed me a goofy face before quickly flipping me off so that she wouldn't see and deliver a sharp blow to the top of his hard head.

"Put it in your blog." I muttered.

"How about these?" Ms. Geoffrey was at my side, holding up the most beautiful arrangement of hydrangeas I'd ever seen.

My heart swelled in my chest. Hydrangeas were my mother's favorite, and these were just breathtaking. I took them between both of my hands, relishing the relaxing crinkling sound that the paper made as I did. The fresh, natural smell wafted up to me and filled my head.

I remember then just how much my mother loves flowers, and then my heart sank just as fast when I remembered how my father would almost never buy them for her.

"These are perfect." I said softly before reaching out to hug her. She held me for a second. "We'll take them."

"What's the damage?" My little brother asked as he appeared beside me.

Ms. Geoffrey tucked her hands behind her back as she made a "Pff" sound with her mouth. "Don't be stupid, boy." Then she used her hand to wave us both away.

My eyes widened and I shook my head. "Not a chance," I reached for my wallet and Lance grabbed the flowers from my arms.

"Don't have to tell me twice." He scoffed and then turned towards to door.

"Lance, no." I turned back to her. "Would $200 cover it?" I asked, pulling the large bills out.

"Make sure you give your mother my blessings, child." She said and then turned to walk away, ignoring the money in my hand.

I made a horrified face and whined. "Ms. Geoffrey."

 _Ping._

The familiar ding from the bell of the front door rang through the small store but I was too trained on a very stubborn old lady who wouldn't accept payment for the beautiful and no doubt expensive arrangement she'd just handed me.

I stood at the front desk and watch her as she clipped some thorns off the stems of roses methodically. Even in her old age, she was incredibly agile when it came to cutting flowers. She clearly loved what she did, and I've always admired her dedication.

"How's Felix?" I asked with a huge smile on my face, wondering why her red tabby was nowhere to be found. He usually loved to sit right where I leaned against the counter, watching his owner with a bored look on his chubby face. Felix had to have been about 12 years old at this point, and I could tell by the look on Ms. Geoffrey's face he was becoming a handful.

"He's fat and lazy. So in short, he's become my ex-husband. He's in the back room asleep." She grumbled as she looked over my shoulder. "Damn it. I forgot about him."

I made a confused face, tilting my head slightly. I looked over my shoulder and as soon as my brain adjusted to what my eyes had captured, it felt as if my lungs had shriveled up and fell off of their bronchi and right into my stomach.

I saw his eyes first because they were like magnets. They were _glued_ to me, scanning my body up and down before finally settling back on my face again. When he finally processed me in my entirety, a smirk pulled across his lips.

No.

My eyes immediately found the floor and the sheer horror kidnapped the place in my consciousness that housed the calm I've been nurturing since I was 21 years old.

All of the oxygen left my brain at once and I felt my head begin to spin, balance waver as if I had an inner ear infection. I turned around completely now, facing him, and pressed the small of my back against the counter.

An anticipated voice broke through my psyche. "Holy—Jillian? Jillian Pierce?"

I finally looked up again, my heart still hammering in my chest like crazy. I had to squeeze my shirt in my hands to stop them from shaking.

Bennett ducked his head down to meet my eyes and smiled. "Holy crap, it _is_ you! Long time no see, right? Almost 3 years?" I cleared my throat and nodded my head microscopically. I couldn't speak, I'd forgotten that I even had a voice. How do you speak again? Syllables? Anything?

I was already looking for my exit plan. The door was right behind him, tucked between two metal shelves that held various flower pots, but I didn't have one-one hundredth the courage or nerve to run past him. He may as well have been a living wall.

I kept my focus trained on Bennett, trying very hard not to look over his shoulder to the eerily silent, lingering icy cold orbs that burned right through his body and into me.

Bennett had grown since I last saw him. He's a bit taller now but still handsome as ever with his sandy blonde hair and soft hazel eyes. He had that 'rich, frat boy' thing going for him. Always has, and apparently always will. He was the mirror image of his equally gorgeous, older sister Alba whom I'd never spoken to because she was way out of my social league. Sometimes it baffled me that the two of them weren't twins, they look so much alike.

"You look different." He said, and then scratched his chin as he studied me. "I can't quite put my finger on it." Bennett turned back to his cousin and then pointed over his shoulder at me. "Teddy look who it is." When Theodore said nothing, Bennett looked back at me. "I see you still dress like you just woke up 10 minutes ago."

Harsh, but true. Despite all the nice clothes that my mother and sister had bought and stuffed in my closet over the years, I'd always opted to dress more comfortably…in clothes that didn't draw attention to my strange body.

Jane would always describe me as curvy but small in all the right places. Typically, when I looked at the mirror I saw a girl who was too skinny, untanned, and ghostly. Today I was sporting a simple red long-sleeved turtleneck knit sweater and a pair of yellow batman pajama bottoms which was pretty presentable compared to how I usually dress. Especially when I have class in 15 minutes.

"She looks different? If by different you mean uglier than yeah, way different." A bored voice rambled from my immediate right. Lance leaned against the counter and rolled his eyes when I didn't bother to respond with the usual catty and equally as jabbing response. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, a small twinge of worry in his voice.

"She's probably just stunned by how attractive I am." Bennett joked. I didn't even pretend to be amused by that line. My eyes were stuck to the floor. I could feel this dark aura beginning to loom over me slowly like a rain cloud. It sucked all the life right out of my body as soon as I saw him. And for the first time in three years, I was genuinely afraid.

No one in my entire life has ever had this effect on me. No one but him.

"What are you guys doing here?" Lance asked, seeming to have forgotten about me already.

"My girlfriend just delivered." Bennett said proudly and then cupped his hands to his mouth. "I'm here to PICK UP THOSE FLOWERS I ORDERED FOR HER!"

Ms. Geoffrey made a face and then turned away, disappearing into the back room. She shut the door and we all heard the lock click. I assumed Bennett was making a crack at how old she was getting with that over exaggerated display you'd only extend to someone with progressive hearing loss.

"You probably shouldn't go into entertainment because you aren't funny." Lance said dryly.

"How old are you again?" Bennett asked before ruffling his already unkempt hair. "Like 12?"

Lance pushed his hand away and snarled. "20 actually and—"

"We were just leaving." I coughed out finally, my voice breaking as I did. I was surprised by how steadily I said that. In my head I'd imagined it was going to come out as a screechy and panicked lull.

"Ry."

Bennett turned around and gave his older cousin his undivided attention. "Sup?"

"Go wait in my car." He said quietly. I didn't look up but I knew he had to be looking at me. There was no way he wasn't. It didn't matter how many people were around, how thick the crowd of people that massed around him was. He always found me in the sea of faces—always.

"Eh?" He said confusedly. There was no response.

I finally looked up and just as I suspected, he was looking right at me. My knees buckled beneath me, my ears were ringing.

Bennett slowly turned and then slipped past his cousin out the door.

Theodore looked at my brother for a second and then his chin jerked back a bit, motioning for him to go.

Lance looked between the two of us but he didn't say anything. He pushed himself off the counter and said "I'll be in the car Ziggy, take care of whatever we owe so we can leave?"

What? Don't leave you idiot. Where do you think you're going? He tells you to leave and you just go without question?

As his back turned to me I reached out to grab him, my voice failing me again. Before I could get my hand on him another large one wrapped around my wrist and pushed it into the counter.

Lance disappeared out of the door and the tiny bit of courage I had left disintegrated. Theodore pushed his entire body against mine and my eyes immediately found the ground again. I stared at his black sneakers, his dark blue jeans, up to his black, long-sleeved thermal.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, his voice so deep and smooth that it made me flinch, eyes boring into my head.

Whoa—I looked away. Looking him in the eyes was a huge mistake. Still as intense as ever.

I didn't know how to respond to that. Clearly I was trying to get away from him. That much alone should have been apparent. I never hid how much I disliked being near him, but that never deterred his hunger to berate and demean me, if anything it fueled it. "I…"

"You what?" He asked, purposefully cutting me off, goading me to catch feelings with him. "3 years I don't hear anything. I finally see you and this is the greeting I get?" He sucked a breath through his teeth, feigning hurt. "Cruel."

Cruel? _Me?_

I couldn't help but throw him a look then, one that he did not appreciate and made clear.

"Don't get brave now, _Ziggy_." My nickname was like venom rolling off his tongue. "You ran away from me. Own up to it. I won't get angry." His tone was so playful, but there was a warning and bone-shaking darkness to it that made me coil inwards.

Won't get angry? The way he looked at me would suggest that the fact I even _breathed_ was torturous to him.

I was beginning to feel tears form at the back of my eyes, but I wasn't going to cry. I wouldn't _dare_ give him the satisfaction. The memories of all the things he'd done to me over the years were slowly crawling their way up my subconscious and threatening to break through. I wouldn't let them.

"Please…" Gently, he ran his nose across my cheek, his soft lips gliding across the flesh as he did.

"Please _what_?" I inhaled deeply when he brought his mouth to the crook of my neck and pressed the smallest of kisses there. My entire body burst out into flames at the sensation and I all but collapsed into him, my stiff and guarded body turning to mush.

"Stop," I whimpered.

"How long?" He asked as he held my waist in his huge arms, completely ignoring my plea.

I shuddered out a weak "What?"

"How long have you been in town, and how long are you going to be here?"

I shook my head, unwilling to divulge that information. "Why do you care? What does it even matter to you?"

My body was spun around swiftly and slammed against the counter before I could say another word. My eyes widened as the wind was knocked out of me. I searched around for some kind of help but found nothing, as Ms. Geoffrey had locked herself in her office and my brother had disappeared outside. He pushed the front of his body against the back of mine, making me feel even more like a caged animal, trapped between a rock and a hard place.

I moaned breathlessly, unable to expunge any oxygen from my lungs, feeling almost as if I were suffocating but not quite. My pelvis strained against the hard surface in front of me, causing me to wince. "You're hurting me."

"Am I?" He asked, his tone filled with humor.

"Please…I didn't…" I searched my mind for answers that I didn't really have. Suddenly, I had this confusing urge to sate his anger. He was always angry with me for one reason or the other, and I would always search for ways to appease him which more often than not, didn't work. "I wanted to do my grad work at Berkeley…I didn't plan to be gone for so long." There was a helplessness in my tone that I hadn't heard from myself in a very, very long time.

He really didn't like that answer. I could tell by the deep laugh that bellowed from the bottom of his throat, felt it on the lumbar of my spine.

"I couldn't give two shits about what you were _going_ to do, or what your plans were in the long run. Do I look like a give a fuck about you? Or what you want? Have you lost your fucking mind? Has that California air fucked your already deranged little brain? Those insignificant thoughts that pass through it? You fucking ran away because you're a poisonous, manipulative little bitch with daddy issues, right? It had nothing to do with me."

Well, that was my undoing right there. I was crying now. I held my hand to my mouth as the violent sobs threatened to rip me apart.

He squeezed my waist between his big, strong hands. "Crying, huh? Nice to see you're trying to shake it up for once." His tone was filled with boredom.

 _Why me? What did I do to hurt him? What did I do to make him hate me so much? Why does he treat me this way?_

He turned me back around again and pulled my hand away from my mouth. I threw my head down violently, unable to meet his eyes again but he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him as he scanned my features with an unreadable expression.

All of a sudden, he brought his mouth down to my slobbery, tear soaked one, jammed his thumb inside to pry my jaw open. "Tongue." He said simply.

Without hesitation, I reflexively stuck out my tongue out, laid it flat against my bottom lip and he lazily drug his own across it from side to side. I moaned against him as he snaked one muscular arm around my waist and held me into his build, trapping my arms between his chest and my own.

It felt disgusting. _I_ felt disgusting.

He pulled away and a single strand of saliva trailed between our tongues before snapping at the middle and disappearing. I stared up at him in awe and could see the lust in his eyes.

I was so confused, but it was only because they eyes held something inside of them I'd never seen before. It was soft, but visceral, violent, and almost…needy. I knew better though. Theodore Grey _despised_ me. He always has, ever since he laid eyes on me.

I remember it like it was yesterday, his face was marked with bruises and there was a cut just below his eye. It was the day after my 12th birthday, my family had taken me to the Hamptons for Sunday brunch. We were in the playground outside of our school. He'd gotten into another fight. He fought a lot in middle school but I had no idea why.

I'd grown up with this enigmatic boy with the quiet, calm eyes that shone whenever he smiled. People flocked to him like gravity. Everyone adored and admired him. He was the epitome of popularity and social status, so I always wondered—to myself of course—why does he always look so…lonely? That smile he showed everyone…why did it seem fake?

I couldn't pin down just what it was which caused me to shake with even more fear of the unknown. When I could read his expression, no matter how scary or uninviting it was I felt calm. It was when I couldn't get a read on him that I truly began to panic.

He bit down on his bottom lip and then pressed his forehead to mine, his cold blue eyes leaving me speechless. He was as least a head taller than me still and I had to balance on my tip toes to keep from stumbling backwards. "Fuck." He seethed, his voice pained. Then he said, with so much humor and excitement in his deep quivering voice, "Tremble harder. It's like therapy to me."

I'm sure that my face looked horrible at that moment, could still feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. "You think that was bad, I plan to do _so_ much worse to you. I'm going to _shatter_ you."

He was far behind himself to say the least.

"I'm already broken. You cemented that a long time ago Theodore." I sneered angrily and then winced when I realized I'd just said his name. He _hated_ it when I said his name. He always displayed his disapproval for it as if ants were crawling across his flesh.

To my surprise though, he didn't say anything of it. I didn't miss the way his hand on my ass tightened, so much that I squeaked out a moan. "No…you're not broken yet. Not enough to my liking at least. I'm going to show you broken and when I'm done you'll never have to question what suffering really is…you'll be living it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Jane asked as she stood from her chair, she slapped her book shut and gave me a very hard and uneasy look. She was sitting in the chair just outside our mother's hospital room minding her own business before I made the mistake of trying to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway, though it was fairly empty. "You said you were going to take time off yesterday. You're going back to California already?"

"Jane, please." I begged, not willing to get into details about why I was fleeing Seattle so soon.

"Don't Jane me! Our mother is going to need all of us! She's going to have to go through…" Jane ran her hands through her short, messy auburn hair which is usually always nicely done but the stress has clearly gotten to her. She wasn't wearing a lick of makeup, and her clothes were baggy and loose fitting. "Chemo…and rehabilitation…and she needs you. She needs her family. You can't leave, Jillian! Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Her voice rose with every syllable and I cringed when she threw the book she was reading over my shoulder, narrowly missing my head.

"I have a lot of work to do with my—"

"I don't give a fuck about your work, Jillian—don't give me that bullshit, okay? Our mother is _dying_." Her voice sunk below an octave, cracking at the final word. "And you're just going to leave…again? Run away like you always do? Is it dad? Is that it? Are you running away because dad gave you a little hard love again? Well, news flash Jillian…he gives _all_ of us hard love. You, me, Blane, Lance, even MOM. And his coldness…his disregard for her has made her sick _again_." I held my breath, waiting for her to finish. "You always give the most deafening premonitions about how he's a horrible father, how he doesn't give a shit about his family but got damn it AT LEAST HE'S AROUND. I haven't seen you in almost a year! Who the _hell_ are you to talk?" There was such contempt in her tone that it grounded me. "You're the heartless one in this family, not dad."

I finally released that breath. "I deserved that."

She wasn't finished though. "All you care about is school, school, school—work, work, work…what about your health?! Yesterday I barely even recognized you! You've gotten so thin…your skin is paler…you don't even look like you anymore. In fact, you haven't been _you_ since high school. You've changed and I don't know what it is but I don't like it. You used to be this eager, wide-eyed little girl who wanted to know everything and do everything. Now you're just a fucking shell. You're a slave to your work, you carpal tunnel everything around you. What _happened_ to you Jillian?!"

…I can't really say.

No, I really can't say. Not because I was scared of what he'd do to me. I was scared of what he'd do to _her_.

How would I tell my sister that I'd been tormented, both verbally and physically since I was 16 years old? How do you spin that? How do I explain that I never told anyone out of fear that he'd rebel, out of fear that he'd hate me even more than he already did…out of fear that I'd be killed?

I thought on it for a moment. I didn't care to explain why I had to go. I just had to go. I couldn't stay in Seattle anymore. It was a fairly big city…but who was I kidding—he'd find me. It had only been one day I was back and somehow I managed to run into him, and to no avail—he still hates me. I thought I was stronger now but nothing has changed. I needed to leave before I lost more than my dignity. Staying would be submitting to my own downfall. I just wanted to go back to my lonely, quiet apartment and cry until I couldn't anymore. Then I'd go back to school and throw myself into my work. I'd be happier that way, surely. It's kept my mind occupied so far.

I puffed up my chest, preparing my bullshit statement, piecing it together in the back of my mind. "Life happened to me, Jane. I can't be constantly putting it on hold."

"Constantly? When have you ever put your life on hold for anyone? It's all about you. It always has been. Get out of my sight." She said quickly, holding her hand up to her face as she averted her gaze. "Get the fuck away from me!"

I turned around without another word and hastily made my way to the lobby. I was ready to leave. I couldn't take the pressure, it took precedence even over the sheer amount of guilt and sadness that I felt from leaving my own mother in her time of need. I was convinced that my safety was priority 1 though, which is why I willed my legs to keep moving forward, even has my heart told me to stop and turn around.

"Ziggy? Where are you going?" An arm extended in front of me, halting me in place. I looked up and was met with a very confused looking Blane. His eyes narrowed when he saw my face. "Why do you look like you're about to cry?" He asked.

He was holding a donut box with a tray of coffee cups on top, balancing them both effortlessly. I rubbed my tired eyes as I looked up at him. "Blane."

He smiled down at me. "I've been looking for you, munchkin. Jane said you got in yesterday, but I just barely missed you. I think you got here when I left."

"I've kind of been running all over the place." I explained. "Lance and I went to get flowers earlier today."

"Well where are you headed now? Forget something?"

I shook my head, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. I bit down on my lip and mustered up the courage. "No, I'm…going back to California."

My brother blinked a few times, seeming to have no expected that response at all. "I don't understand."

"I have a lot of work to take care of, and I have classes too. I promise I'll come back next weekend."

He raised a curious brow but his eyes remained steady and patient. "You can't take any time off? Can't get a sabbatical or something?"

"It's just that I'm so close to being done. Maybe a little under two months and I'll be able to submit my research for my degree. I really want to…"

"Ziggy," Blane cut me off, ducking his head down to meet my eyes which I hadn't even noticed were stuck to the linoleum I stood on. "You're not looking at me. Whenever you lie, you don't look me in the eyes."

Shoot.

I hated lying to my big brother. He was one of the best role models in my life, my hero, and he was always just as honest with me as I was with him. He wasn't like Jane or Lance, he was the oldest of us all at 29 and he was ridiculously patient and compassionate. If we needed anything, he was always the person we'd run to. Not being able to just spill my guts to him cut me deep, but I wasn't ready to divulge the information I kept locked deep inside. It wasn't time.

"Can you just trust me when I tell you that I need to go?" I asked as I looked up at him.

He was full on confused now, but instead of asking me why, he caught me off guard "Before I say yes, let me ask you you trust yourself?"

If that wasn't a loaded question, then I don't know what is. How can I even properly respond to that? I didn't know. Silence stretched between us for the longest time as neither of us broke eye-contact.

Finally I lost my stamina, breaking under the pressure. "I'm still figuring that out. Whether or not I can trust myself. When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."

"I'm not your enemy, Ziggs. We have a lot of shit, on top of more shit that we have to trudge through as people before we finally figure out who we are. No one says that you have to do that alone. If you ever need anything… _anything_ …I'm here, you know that. If you have to go, then go…I won't say anything. But you need to understand that _this_ —" He pointed to his feet. "This is home. This is where you will find completion…the place you're always trying to escape from."

I let his words sink in and once again I found myself rubbing my eyes to quell the stinging. "Mom…"

"Would understand." He cut me off abruptly. I just stared at him for a long while as he searched my face for a clue. "Mom supports your dreams more than anyone in the whole family. She'd never keep you from them."

I choked out a laugh. "Why are you such a shrink?"

He made a weird face. "I have a psych degree."

I rolled my eyes, suddenly remembering that yes, technically…he _is_ a shrink minus the license. "Doesn't make how honest and right you are any less annoying."

He just shrugged at that. "What do you want to do?" He asked.

For the first time in my life I didn't have an answer for him. "I don't know."

"When you figure it out, we'll be here." He sighed and then moved from in front of me, allowing me clearance to leave as he left me standing alone.

If this were a simpler world I would leave school and move back home to take care of my mother without hesitation, but this was not that world. This world housed an evil that I could not extinguish, a lingering hatred that I could not quell, and nearly 20 years of longing that I refused to face head-on. I left because I didn't want to deal with it anymore, I was weak—I'm still weak and he's too strong. Not just physically, but psychologically as well, he trumps me in every way. He terrified me.

But there was more to it than that.

It wasn't merely hate that fueled Theodore Grey, there was this need that radiated from him, this pressing urge to eradicate my very existence. He's told me since day one that he hated me, reminded me every day since, and even as he used it as his crutch he still clung to me. He isolated me, made me a pariah, got everyone else to hate me as well and tore me down even though I wasn't that high up to begin with.

Plus there was the fact that he affected the hell out of me. He drove me crazy in every way. Sure he was outrageously gorgeous, but that was just the surface of who he was. He had layers that I couldn't describe with any words that I knew. He was just…different. Even without his cruel, abusive ways there had always been something incredibly profound about him.

Years passed and I let it all fade behind me, but I never bothered to even try and understand why. I didn't want to know. I just wanted to be free, and moving away was the only out that I saw.

 _Of course it's the only out, but is it truly the out that you want?_

…Again. I don't know.

I still needed to figure it out.

xxx

 **One week later…**

I felt a looming presence as I sat in the cafeteria Friday afternoon, having just finished my lunch and preparing myself for what was to come. Not really thinking too much of it, I glanced up and was greeted by Carlos and Yessi sitting opposite me at the table with their trays.

"What are you reading?" Yessi asked as she leaned over the table to get a better view of the cover I'd had my face buried in. "Tale of Two Cities?" She scoffed and then settled back in her seat. "I couldn't make it past the first chapter of that snooze-fest."

Carlos agreed. "Couldn't make it past the first two pages."

I closed my book and gave them my full attention, most of it masked with sarcasm and humor. "You guys. I don't really know what it is you're trying to do here…" I gestured around the table. "But I'm trying really freaking hard to not panic about this evening."

Carlos made a weird face as he stared at me. "Why would you be panicking? Did something go wrong with your cultures?"

"No…" I muttered.

"What's the problem then?" Yessi pushed. "There's no way they'll turn down your thesis. You've worked way harder than all of us combined."

"Obscure reference." Carlos butt in. Yessi promptly shut him down with a hand to his pouty face.

"I have a lot going on in here right now." I said as I pointed to my temple. "Just trying to organize it all. File and ligate." I mumbled aimlessly, staring off at nothing in particular.

They looked between each other and then back at me again with confused expressions on their faces. I went through the thoughts in my head over and over again, the million strands of baseless data, pointless ends, rattling nonsense. Counted to 100 about 100 times.

Anything to keep my mind off of this evening. Anything to stop me from changing my mind about the conclusion I've chosen. Anything to make this nagging feeling in my gut to go away.

xxx

"Let's see…Jillian Pierce?"

"Here!" I stood abruptly from my seat at the back of the lab. Nervously, I fumbled to the front of the room amongst the other candidates who stood beside me. "I'm…me. Jillian Pierce." I said messily, cursing in my head at how stupid I sounded there.

"Yes…" He said and then wrinkled his thin nose. "Eh…Right." He paused between words quite a bit, his voice lazy and tired. "Alright, yes you're applying for your Ph.D in…" He scanned his form before looking up at me, "Microbiology?"

"Yes sir,"

"We've reviewed your thesis and it's been approved. You'll be allowed to submit your final—" He began but I was already over the moon, hearing only every other thing he said.

I reached out for his hand and took it in mine, shaking it furiously. "Thank you so much, professor! Thank you."

He pulled his hand away and gave me a funny look. "Let me finish,"

"Yes, sorry, sir—yes." I stuttered before readjusting my glasses and pushing my hair behind my ears.

"Uh," He squinted at his clipboard. "We can offer you $25,000 in funding until the end of July of the following year…You'll need to submit a notarized list of your findings by the end of the week, and you'll be awarded your degree."

"Thank you so much, sir! Really."

"You'll be transferred to the University of Washington and paired with Arthur McAvoy to complete your research, effective immediately. Alright…next—"

I held up my hand, "Wait a second, Professor Luther hold on—" I had to gather my thoughts. "I don't…what? University of Washington? I've been at Berkeley for 3 years, sir, my intention was to earn my degree here. I don't understand why I'm being transferred?"

Luther's chubby cheeks puffed out as I began my bickering. He was clearly not in the mood. "Is there a problem, Miss Pierce?" He asked exasperatedly.

No, not really. I wasn't necessarily disappointed of this turn of events, I was just confused as to why it was happening.

He explained, "You'll still be continuing the same research, just not here…you've completed earning your degree from Berkeley seeing as the majority of your work has been done here. You'll just be working it in a different place alongside a brilliant colleague who shares your research as well. Besides, the funding for your doctorate has been sponsored by a foundation based in Seattle. Also, to my knowledge, your undergraduate work was conducted in Seattle…which is why the committee assumed that you would be fine with this." He was looking through his clipboard, no doubt at my record which most likely included my undergrad information.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I shook my head once, willing my mouth to move as I glanced back at the confused and annoyed faces of my peers. Everyone was waiting to hear if their thesis had been accepted and right now I was holding up the stressful, anxiety-filled line. "I see…and…. _hypothetically_ of course—" I said with a nervous, joking tone. "What would happen if I were to refuse?"

"You'll be denied graduation and have to choose another field. If you choose to not go you'll have no choice but to start a new thesis and that will set you back another 2 to 3 years." He said dryly.

My skin ran cold. No way.

Luther's bored face quickly morphed into an annoyed one. "Next—Martha Sticks?"

I had to get out of this room. When I got into the hallway I pushed my back against the wall and slid down onto the floor, my face planted firmly in my hands. The smile that threatened to tear my face apart couldn't be sated. How is this even possible? What did I do to get so lucky so fast? My hands were shaking from anticipation.

I have to probably be, at this moment, the luckiest woman alive.

xxx

Back at my apartment that day, I had a new mission. Getting rid of all the food in my house and packing.

I was stuffing my face with whatever I could find in my pantry, refrigerator, and cabinets. I didn't have much food just sitting around my house seeing as I was your typical slummish grad student who ordered take-out for every meal.

I heard footsteps behind me as I sat at the couch with my arm around a carton of rocky road ice cream. "What the fuck?" Ash squealed loudly.

I snapped my head back and gave her a weird look before swiftly turning back around, snatching a couple of Oreos from the packet on my couch and shoving them in my mouth. I grabbed the remote control to my television and turned the volume up as loud as it would go before Ash snatched the device from my hands and turned it off completely.

She wrestled me for the carton of ice cream, "Jill! Let the ice cream go!" I growled before finally giving up and allowing her to confiscate the nearly empty box from me. "I go to the bathroom for one minute, come back and you're trying to induce anaphylactic shock on yourself? Why are you stuffing your face?!"

"Because I'm stressed, Ash—that's why. Also, I don't want to waste food." I snapped before ripping a Twizzler between my teeth.

She grabbed the bag of candy away from me and tossed it on the coffee table. Then she sat down beside me, a worried look on her face. "What are you stressed about?"

"Well let's see, my mother has cancer, my sister disowned me and probably hates me now, and I have another year of research to do before I can get my doctorate." I said sarcastically.

Ash gave me a warning look. "Am I the person you're angry with? I don't think so, so cool your jets…and put the candy down."

"I didn't realize that I needed permission to eat my food in my own house. Pardon me." I groaned, throwing my head back against the couch.

"Why are you stressed out? I thought you wanted to move back home for your mom?"

"I mean…I do, but…"

"But?"

"But I'm—"

Ash looked so confused and even a little bit annoyed. "…You're?"

"I was going to turn them down, Ash." I said finally, and then turned to face her.

She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I wasn't going to stay in California. I had already planned to move back to Seattle last week. The day I got back to my apartment I decided. I thought about it a lot. But now…I can have both ends of the stick. I get to go home and help take care of my mother, and I don't have to give up my work. It's almost too good to be true…?"

Ash slapped a cookie out of my hand. I hadn't even noticed I was still eating. It was all just being shoveled into me involuntarily. "Jill who cares? None of that matters anymore. What you did, or what you were going to do. You've just been handed an it! Roll with it! Now get up, let's get you packed like you asked me to come here and do. I' m not going to sit around eating junk food with you all day."

I really wasn't in the mood to pack at the moment. Also, I didn't ask her to come over to my house and help me pack…she volunteered. "I changed my mind. I'll start packing tomorrow."

She grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. "Your flight leaves tomorrow. Get up! You are way too pretty to be slouching around like a vegetable and ruining your perfect figure with all this crap."

I snorted then grabbed my bag of candy from the table. "Pretty. Yeah right. Oh definitely…my pasty skin and lack of personality is just stunning."

My head wandered over to where Ash stood near the arm of the couch, staring down at me as if I'd just slapped her. "You're kidding, right?"

I blinked around, confused and unable to pinpoint what exactly was befuddling her. "Kidding about what?"

"You know this has actually bothered me for the longest time. Jill…do you seriously not realize how pretty you are?" That statement caused me to reel back, an amused expression on my face.

"Well thank you dear." I feigned gratitude and then rolled my eyes. I looked up at her as I chewed on some almond filled M&M's, the cracking sound between my teeth filling the silence that swelled the room.

"Wow, this is fascinating. What bliss it must be to be drop-dead gorgeous and not know it." Ash scratched her head, her other hand planted on her hip as she watched me. "I mean sure you dress like a homeless person and it wouldn't kill you to brush your hair every now and then, but other than that…geez Jill, there's humble and then there's just plain ignorant. You're model worthy."

I couldn't have been any less interested in what she was saying. My face was in a resting position of boredom, lids heavy. Friends are supposed to tell you that you're pretty, that's what friends do. I went all through middle school and most of high school without even kissing a boy. Guys weren't into me. No boy ever approached me, not for school dances, dates, or even in a friendly way. The closest I ever got to dating a guy was my freshman year—Tony Fletcher. We went on one date and the next day he told me that it wasn't going to work out and then he completely ghosted me. Cementing the idea that I was not only physically unattractive but had an uninteresting personality as well.

I look like a potato and sometimes I'm too depressed to even look at my own reflection. I'm not pretty, I'm probably not even average and I'm fine with that. My looks didn't matter to me because I had brains—that's what was getting me places.

I was always Ziggy; Jane and Blane's doofy little sister with the glasses and the perfect grades. My older siblings were the attractive ones, they both exuded confidence. Jane has to practically beat the men off with a stick and Blane…is just a whore. I love him to death, but he's much too aware of how good-looking he is and abuses it often.

Me? A model? Is my friend actually mental?

"Yeah, I'm sure that if Vogue ever needs a lanky, weird-looking pasty redhead on their cover I'll be the first person they call." I mumbled hatefully before flipping the television back on again.

She stormed over to the TV and ripped the power cord from the wall. "You need to pack…now!"

"I don't want to."

"If you don't pack I'll do it for you, and I think we both know how badly that will turn out." I stiffened in my curled up position on the couch as she disappeared behind me, heading towards my bedroom. "Okay, Ash—let's just be cool! We're all friends here."

"I wonder how many shirts I can fit in this one compartment." She teased, her voice travelling through my small apartment.

"Fine! I'm up, okay. Look! I'm up. Don't start cramming things into my suitcases haphazardly!"

xxx

Blane and Lance picked me up from the airport. The car ride was riddled with lingering stares and a cough here and then. Also, Blane didn't like to listen to the radio, so we had to make awkward conversation all the way to the house.

"I can't believe you actually came back." Blane said as he looked at me in the rearview. When he caught my slightly offended expression he immediately corrected himself. "I mean…you know I love you Ziggy but you're just like dad when it comes to work. It trumps all other things, right?"

"Jane said—" Lance began but Blane swiftly cut him off.

"Shutup Lance." He said matter-of-factly and then glared in his direction.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure it was something heady and not PG-13."

"She said you weren't family anymore and called you a heartless hobgoblin." Lance turned around in the passenger seat and smiled at me on the last word. "Do you know what a hobgoblin is?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Do you know that I don't care?"

He ignored that and explained anyway. "A really big nosed ugly, stupid troll looking thing. Quite frankly, I think she was on to something there."

I burst out into laughter when Blane delivered a swift blow to the middle of his chest, causing him to lean forward quickly and hit his head on the dashboard. "FUCK YOU!" Lance managed, sounding completely out of breath…wind knocked out of him.

"Well…my day has been made." I chuckled.

"As I was saying, really appreciate you coming home to take care of mom."

Lance finally sat up in his seat, seeming to have regained his fighting spirit. "She said that she's still going to school, though. How is she supposed to help with mom if she's working all the time?"

"I'm only working about 20 hours and I don't have any classes. I should have more than enough time to be around and be useful." I explained, having already checked my schedule earlier today.

"Well isn't that mighty convenient." He grumbled and then rolled his clear green eyes.

"You know sometimes it baffles me the way you never shut the hell up Lance." Blane said, completely exasperated.

"You know what baffles me? The way you're almost 30 and you've never even had a steady girlfriend before. Scared of commitment bro?"

"This is coming from the 3rd year who still doesn't even have a fucking major yet? You want to get on my ass about commitment?" Blane's tone was straining as he glared over to where Lance had a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lance loved…and I mean— _loved_ —riling Blane up. And quite frankly, no one else in the family could do it the way he did. It was usually all fun and games with the two of them, but I could tell that for once his patience was beginning to slip. I sat in the back seat, cheek resting on one fist as I stared out the window, watching the highway disappear behind us.

"2nd year." Lance corrected. "And what the fuck do I even need school for? I'm rich."

"Correction dipshit— _Dadand Mom_ are rich. You don't have a penny to your name, kid. You've never worked a day in your life. And if you don't figure out what to _do_ with your life soon, dad is going to disown your sorry ass and kick you the hell out of his house."

"You're wasting your time Blane. I've spent hours upon days trying to tilt that windmill." I said tiredly.

Blane looked at me through the rear mirror again. "Ziggs. You're going to be working at UDub starting Monday right?"

I gave him a wary look. "Yeah?"

"And Lance also goes to UDub." He continued, and I still wasn't following him exactly.

"I'm aware."

He gestured to Lance with his chin. "Why don't you give numb nuts here a tour of your job, show him what you're working on? Maybe it'll…I don't know…inspire him?"

"Uh…what?" I said with what I'm sure was a very dreadful expression on my face.

"Come on, Ziggs." He encouraged me, a desperate look in his wide blue eyes that looked just like our mom's. "Please?"

I smiled nervously and shook my head a bit. "I don't understand what I did wrong, why are you punishing me?"

" _You're_ being punished?" Lance scoffed and we both ignored him.

"Blane, I can't stress enough how I would rather chew and swallow glass than babysit an overly-aggressive unmotivated man-child."

"I'm sitting right here. Do I even have any say in this?" Lance asked dryly.

"Shut the fuck up." Blane said swiftly, pointing a warning finger in his direction while still keeping his eyes on the road. "When you pay bills, _then_ you can have a say in something."

Then he looked at me again, his eyes pleading for my cooperation. It was a hard thing having to say no to Blane when he's never really turned me down for a favor. However, just the mere thought of having to dragging my pothead man-whore baby brother around all day made my head hurt and I was already developing a migraine.

I sighed dejectedly, but after a long stretch of awkward silence gave in. "Fine, but I have conditions."

Lance glanced back at me, an amused and cocky look on his face. "Conditions?" He reiterated quietly.

"First condition: You do what I say, when I say, and exactly the way I tell you to do it. Second: Do not touch anything without my permission unless you want to lose a hand or burn off your eyebrows. And lastly: Keep the rude and condescending remarks to an absolute minimum, understand? I can't do it Monday, cause it's my first day and I'd rather not make a bad first impression, so Wednesday."

"Trust me, you won't have to worry about me breaking any of those rules because _I'm not shadowing you_." Lance muttered.

Blane cut him off. "You are though, or I'm going to convince dad to cut you off financially. Meaning no Aspen next month."

"What the fuck is your problem?" He huffed. "Just because you're miserable I also have to be miserable?"

"You think I'm _miserable_?!" Blane scoffed, his tone hysterical and disbelieving. "Wanting to make a living for yourself instead of mooching off your parents into your late 20's isn't what disparity is Lance—you're delusional!"

"Maybe I do have goals—you don't know!"

I rolled my eyes. "Shall I buy you a dictionary, Lance? By your actions, you seem to not know what a _goal_ is."

Lance flashed me an annoyed face again. "What's with the third degree? Mom never gives me half the crap that the two of you spit at me on the daily."

Blane interjected, "You honestly don't think that mom is worried about you?! She tells me all the time about how she's scared that you're going to grow old and die alone as some pot head hippie…not in those words exactly, but—you get my point."

I was beginning to understand that we were giving Lance a really hard time, but if he were even a little motivated, even the tiniest bit—he'd be a textbook genius. He simply seems to not care about himself and never really has. I mean, Lance is 20, not 30—he's got time. The problem is that he doesn't have a direction and that scares us all, especially since we're a very work-oriented family.

My mother and father built their construction company from the ground up with all the blood, sweat, and tears of a thousand ages and everyone telling them they were crazy. This was well before even I was born. Our parents have sacrificed more than Lance will ever really understand. As far as he's concerned, dad is a billionaire and always has been and always will be. For Lance, hard work has never been and never will be a necessity for him. To an extent this is correct, but he still needs to do something. Hell—he could skateboard for a living, my father honestly wouldn't give a crap—as long as he was passionate about it.

"If I go to her stupid nerd job will you leave me alone?" Lance asked, his voice tired.

Blane didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Fine, but here's my condition…" And then he turned in his seat to look back at me. "I get to dissect a frog."

I blinked a couple of times. "…I'm sorry, what?" I said with a small smile.

"I want to cut a frog open and look at its organs." He elaborated. "Aren't you a biologist? You don't know what dissection is?"

I ignored that last part. "Lance you're not dissecting anything. My job isn't a science museum and you're not coming to have fun."

"So you admit your job is boring!" He lilted, pointing at me.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, willing myself to calm down. In the rearview, Blane gave me a huge, toothy smile. "Welcome home, munchkin."

xxx

"Put it down." I muttered, still looking in the microscope.

I heard my brother grunt and then put down whatever the heck he'd just picked up. I raised my head and pushed my glasses up and over my head, looking back at where he stood at one of the work benches.

"I thought I told you not to touch anything. I'm pretty sure that was condition number 2."

He held his hands up in a surrendering fashion before coming over to me, pulling up a stool and settling down right beside me. I resumed what I was doing then, trying to make sense of the mutation beneath my slides. They were correlating decently, but something was off about specimen C, it seemed to be…reverting?

"Can I see?" Lance asked and after a moment I sat back and pushed away from the microscope, allowing him access. "What am I looking at?"

"Staphylococcus." I said dryly.

He looked up at me, his eyes wide. "What is that?" He asked quietly.

"An incredibly complicated,catalaseformicated bacterium."

"What does it do?" He asked as he went back to looking at it.

"Causes staph infection." I mumbled and then chuckled when he quickly pushed away from the table.

"Calm down. This isn't nearly enough to infect a human, plus it's embalmed between two pieces of glass." I rolled back over to the microscope and scribbled some notes on my pad before continuing my browsing of the slide.

"What exactly do you do with this stuff?"

"We use the mutated bacteria to create antibiotics and vaccinations." I explained in a bored and distracted way.

"I'm no mogul, but isn't that super expensive?"

"You _could_ be a mogul if you actually gave it a shot," I said sarcastically. "And yes, it is expensive, extremely so. What of it?" I stopped and pushed away from the table, glancing over to him. "How did you know that making vaccinations was expensive?"

"Documentary." He said simply.

I cracked a smile. "Documentary? _You_ watched a documentary? Were you high?"

He didn't hesitate. "Completely stoned."

"Okay…" I said absently. "For my dissertation, when my work was received and commended, I attracted the attention of several sponsors. They bid for my research, and whoever bids the highest funds the research that I conduct, therefore I'm able to continue."

"So, what do you do with the funding?"

I shrugged and re-adjusted my glasses. "Pretty much what I'm doing now. Mutating bacteria with the hope of finding more effective treatments to diseases."

"Sounds boring."

I just stared at him for a while, completely void of expression. "Does anything excite you, Lance?"

"Weed…pussy?" He muttered. I grunted and stood from my chair, moving over to the cabinets at the back of the lab. When I returned he was on his cellphone tapping out a text message and sending it.

"What the fuck is that?!" Lance said in disgust as I held a tray with a gibbon's brain on it, cut in half right down the sagittal plane. "Is that…is that a brain?!"

"Yep. It's the brain of an adult gibbon." I smiled widely, loving how creeped out he looked. I set the dissection tray down in front of him on the table.

"Why are you? What are you?" He stuttered, confused and flabbergasted.

"You said you wanted to dissect something. There's tumor in this brain. I want you to find and remove it." I placed a scalpel and a pair of tweezers down beside the tray and said, "Go nuts."

Finally, I sat back down in front of my microscope to continue my work.

He said, "How the hell am I supposed to find a tumor in here? It's huge!"

"Use your imagination." I whispered as I adjusted the powers until the image enlarged. I could see spores beginning to form. Not good.

"It smells like burning."

"It's formaldehyde and I would advise against inhaling too much of it. It isn't poisonous but it'll give you a headache like you wouldn't believe in large quantities."

"Jesus Christ." He breathed and I could hear him begin to dig through the neural tissue in search for his mark.

A while later the door clicked open. I looked up and saw Arthur, my new colleague trotting into the room with his head buried in a manila folder. "Arthur, evening."

He looked up at me and his eyes wandered over to Lance, who was still digging through the brain. "You're early, Dr. Pierce."

"I had some things to check with my cultures. And Arthur, please call me Jill." I insisted.

"Right, uh—" He kind of gestured to the preoccupied body beside me.

"I'm sorry, this is my younger brother, Lance." I slapped his shoulder and he looked up before offering a small wave.

"Why is he cutting into a gibbon brain?"

"I told him to remove the tumor…to keep him out of my hair for a while." I admitted sheepishly.

Arthur made an awkward face and clenched his teeth together. "Yeah, Kelly, from the neurobiology department already removed that tumor this morning. It's in this jar here," He went over to one of the shelves and held up a jar. Sure enough there was the tumor, floating around in formaldehyde.

I cleared my throat. "Oops."

"Don't feel bad. I wasn't going to find it even if it was in here." Lance grumbled and then pushed the tray away.

Arthur came up and shook Lance's hand. "You pre-med?" He asked and I had to hold back my laughter.

"If only." I muttered under my breath.

"No, I mostly just go to class, sleep, wake up and then go home." He said enthusiastically and I couldn't help but hide my face in my hand.

"He's still undecided." I added.

"Well what are you leaning towards?" Arthur asked.

Lance thought about that for a moment. "I don't know, is there a profession that warrants not doing anything for a living?"

"Yes, it's called being homeless." I said and Lance flashed me a big smile, completely unaffected.

It was apparent that Lance and I had made Arthur a bit uncomfortable with our bickering, so he quickly moved to change the subject. "Uh, that's right Jill I have the reports from our foundation if you ever wanna take a look at that. Just got them a few hours ago." He said and then extended the folder to me.

I took it before placing it down beside my notepad. "I'll take a look at it in a bit, thanks Arthur."

"How much funding do you have?" Lance asked, looking between us both.

 _Why the heck do you care?_

I eyed him suspiciously. "About twenty grand, why?"

"$20,000?" He asked, his tone surprised. "Is that a lot?"

"No." Arthur and I said simultaneously. "It's average, maybe a little below average when you consider how much time and effort goes into it all. But not everyone has the time and know-how to invest in such a hit-or-miss field like ours, so we were lucky to have received any funding at all." Arthur explained.

"So who's the sucker gambling on you?"

I grabbed the folder then, prepared to open it and take a look but froze at what echoed through the lab room next. "Grey Enterprises."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I hadn't even realized how fast I was walking until I was standing outside of the commissioner's office, banging on the door rapidly. "What on Earth is happening?" Commissioner Gordon, head of the Arts and Sciences department stuck his head out of his office and looked around the empty hallway. "Is there a fire drill?" He asked.

"Sir, why is Grey Enterprises funding our research?" I asked, my tone anxious.

He blinked once and then shook his head. "Dr. Pierce, I don't fully understand your question."

I held up the paperwork between the University of Washington and Grey Enterprises, highlighting the contract with my fingers. "Grey Enterprises is funding our research, sir." I repeated and then brought the files back to my side. "Why?"

"Apparently they're interested in antibiotics. It's a growing field you know."

"I'm aware of how lucrative medicine is, sir. What I'm asking is why a multi-trillion dollar telecommunication corporation is interested in _funding_ it? And more specifically…why my research? It's promising, but it's not _that_ promising."

Gordon made a weird face, seeming unhinged by my barrage of questioning. "Dr. Pierce I'm… _very_ busy today. You're being funded because they chose to fund you, that's why you're here—why question it? Now, if that's all…" He said and began to close the door but I held it open with my foot.

"I need to contact them." I said.

Gordon opened the door much wider this time. "Come again?"

"May I have the information that I need to contact Grey Enterprises, please?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Extend my gratitude." I lied. My goal was to find out who it was exactly in the Grey family that took pity on me. The Grey's were not exactly the most philanthropic family, though they were the wealthiest in the city _. Hands down_ the wealthiest, but never flashy about it. Christian and Anastasia Grey had been a friend of my mom and dad's for almost 15 years now. It had to be no coincidence that they just so happened to suddenly be interested in self-mutating bacteria.

"Listen Dr. Pierce, the greatest gratitude that you can give would be finishing your work and producing results. There's no need to give verbal appreciation, now off with you dear." He said and finally closed his door, leaving me looking doe-eyed and stupid. I turned around and began back towards the lab where I'd left Lance and Arthur dumbfounded and in shock of my sudden storming off.

Now, I'd like to think that I was a very contained individual with a pretty good lid on her mouth and emotions, but for the first time in I think probably years, I couldn't resist the temptation.

"Fuck?!"

xxx

Mom was still out cold, the medicine they were providing keeping her asleep. I sat beside her for a while and spoke about my day. My sister watched me idly from the window every now and then, reading her book.

"How was work?" She asked suddenly.

I gave her a funny look before dryly saying, "It was work."

"I see." She said, her voice rising on the last 'e' of see. She closed her book and then leaned forward in her chair. "Look, I'm really glad that you're here Ziggy."

"Oh so I'm _Ziggy_ now? And here I thought that hobgoblin would stick." I seethed before rolling my eyes.

It was quiet for a moment before she finally said. "I am going to kill Lance."

"No, Jane—you said it…not Lance. At least when Lance talks badly about me, he has the balls to do it to my face."

"Isn't he just so noble, then? Not a burnout stoner at all. You left usZiggs, I was mad at you. You would be mad at me too, wouldn't you? Don't lie."

I stood from my chair and made my way over to her. "Not the point, Jane."

She looked up at me from where she sat, eyes wide and curious. "What is the point then, huh? Enlighten me."

"Not everything is about me Jane! In fact, I haven't thought about _me_ in a long time because I realized that there were more important things."

"Like what?"

"It doesn't even matter—listen, I need something from you."

"You need something from me? You, Jillian Farrah Pierce, are asking me Jane Jensen Pierce for a _favor_? Is the sky falling?" She lilted and then pointed to the ceiling.

"Do you have Phoebe Grey's personal number?" I asked.

"Phoebe?" Jane made a face. "I don't Ziggs…I don't really _know_ her like that. I mean, I know her through our families but not like on a personal level." She explained, using her hands for emphasis. "To be honest…she's kind of become a bitch over the years. She used to be super sweet and cute but the last time I ran into her she was like a robot."

"Thanks anyway." I muttered despondently. I used to have Phoebe's number, but she and I haven't spoken since we were teenagers, and I'm sure that her number has changed since then.

"I do have Theodore's number, though." Jane said suddenly and then pulled her cellphone out of her purse. "Just ask him, it's—"

I cut her off. "No, no—thanks but no thanks."

Her face scrunched up a bit. "What's the problem?"

"You can't be serious?" I scoffed. "I can't just call Theodore, Jane—he hates me."

That made my sisters face unwind a bit. "Wh-what?" She giggled out with an amused expression her face.

"Don't you remember? In high school?" I began and then choked on my own words, unwillingly the memories began to resurface again. All the horrible and twisted things he'd done to me, all of them and the way he treated me I'd only just now noticed—he never did it in front of other people. It was always in the shadows, behind closed doors. Every menacing word, every nasty glare, and every touch was between him and I. No one knew how much Theodore hated me, not even my own sister who attended school with us.

"Remember what, Ziggy?" She asked, her tone still humorous. "As far as I know—he's never spoken a word to you. In fact you're so quiet and keep to yourself so much that he's probably just barely aware of your existence."

 _Not aware of my existence?_ If ONLY. I've often wondered how much different my life would be, how different I would be if that man didn't know who I was, or at the very least didn't _care_ who I was.

"Oh, you know what—" Jane squealed, suddenly remembering something. "I was out a few ago, I went to this new nightclub that opened downtown with a few of my friends—Karen is getting married and we were throwing her a small bachelorette party...anyway—Theodore was there." I held my breath. "We chatted for a bit and I brought you up. He didn't really have a reaction…or maybe he did?The place was really dark Ziggy, but he didn't really let on that he dislikes you. We only spoke for a little while and then he disappeared. Point is…he doesn't really seem to mind you? Just give him a call if you really need to speak with her I'm sure he'd be happy to help. He's such a nice guy. Not to mention he has an ass you could crack a walnut on." She muttered that last part and then pulled out a piece of paper, jotting the number down.

Wow, she seriously had no idea. No one did…only him and I. How had she not noticed the way he glared at me back when we were younger? It was so obvious that he didn't like me, and the worst part of it all is that I had no clue as to why. I don't know what I did, but one day he just started… _bullying_ me out of nowhere. The pranks started small, then they grew—and before I knew it almost every single night he was humiliating me sexually. He didn't stop until I turned into the most introverted, unconfident woman alive—and he succeeded with a ferocity.

It took a while of me staring at her outstretched hand before I finally took it, hesitantly. I didn't really want to get any further into this conversation and knew that if I didn't submit, she'd start to get suspicious. "Thanks."

"What are you guys talking about?" Blane asked as he entered the room. He was wearing one of those work suits that made him look uncomfortably serious. Blane usually tends to dress nicelybut I always thought that the blazers made him look like a tool, didn't fit his personality.

"Ziggy is trying to contact Phoebe." Jane said.

"Phoebe Grey?" He clarified.

"Yeah, but I don't have her number…so I just gave her Theo's."

"I have Phoebe's number." Blane said as he glanced over to me.

"No way." I breathed, suddenly feeling giddy.

"Way." He mocked, a smile splitting across his features. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and began scrolling through it. "It's only 3 so she's probably still at work…and she doesn't tend to answer her cellphone while she's working. I'll give you her direct line."

"Well then—mission accomplished." Jane lilted and then went back to her book.

I went to one of the empty waiting rooms at the west wing and dialed my phone, pressed it to my ear and heard the humming through the line. "Grey." A soft, feminine voice said sharply.

"Hello, Phoebe?" I whispered, suddenly wondering why I was whispering. "This is Jillian…Pierce." I added my last name, just in case.

"What do you need, Ziggy?" She asked impatiently. Whoa—straight to the point, eh? I suppose it was relieving to know she hadn't completely forgotten who I am.

"Ah—sorry I don't mean to keep you. It's just that I've recently moved back to Seattle…"

"I didn't even know that you left." She scoffed.

"Yeah. I was wondering—if you still worked at Grey Enterprises?"

"Yep." She said.

I chuckled nervously, rapidly moving forward. "I'm in the middle of completing my doctorate research from Berkeley, and I was transferred back home to finish. Um, I'll just be forward—why is Grey Enterprises funding my research?" I asked and then bit down on one of my nails, awaiting her response.

She was quiet for a moment. "Grey Enterprises is funding your research?" Her tone was surprised. "I'm sorry, but this is actually the first I'm hearing about this as well. I can assure you that I personally had nothing to do with it."

"I see, well, would you happen to know who did then?" There was some ruffling around in the background from her end. I heard typing and clicking. She hummed a few times before finally speaking again.

"Yeah, that funding has been authorized by Freeman Technologies, one of our sister companies." She mumbled…I'm assuming to herself, voice raising a bit when she elaborated. "That's Theodore's account. He's who you want to speak with."

I pressed my face into one of my hands and held it there. God, no. "Please tell me there are a lot of Theodore's at your company."

She was quiet for a while before I heard a small chuckle. "Do you and my brother have issues or something?"

You have no idea. Our issues could be their own magazine company.

"Not issues _per se_." I grumbled.

"I didn't even know you knew each other. For the longest time I was sure he didn't even know who you were. He's really self-important at times and you're not the most outgoing person."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, he was really good at fooling people into believing he didn't know who I was. I'm beginning to notice this more and more. "We don't really have any problems." I lied, really badly and awkwardly.

"Kay then, hold on." She said and music began to play into my ear, her presence completely gone. After about a minute the music ceased, the line dialing again. I was confused, wondering why she'd left me hanging. I picked at the fabric on my distressed jeans, pulling the fibers out and letting them fall to the floor.

"What?" A familiar voice drifted through to me. His voice was so deep, and even harsher than usual.

I was frozen, at a loss for words. She _transferred_ me to him?! I wasn't ready. I didn't have a chance to prepare myself mentally. Not cool, Phoebe Grey.

"Are you going to say something or are you going to keep wasting my time?" He asked, his tone annoyed.

I coughed a couple of times to clear my dry throat, having rediscovered my voice. "I, uh…"

"You uh?" He mocked. I could tell he was growing impatient.

My blood boiled. Why did he have to be such a prick? "Why on Earth are you funding my research? What's your angle?"

"Excuse me? I think that you have this whole thing confused. You don't ask me anything and I don't have to explain myself to you."

"But I—"

"I don't give a fuck."

I squeezed my phone in both hands as I held it to my ear. Could feel my throat beginning to contract and my voice diminishing slowly. "Can you please just tell me why Theodore?"

"Don't." He seethed, his tone so menacing that it made me wince even though I couldn't see him. "Don't piss me off." My heart jumped then. I didn't want him to be angry with me.

 _Who gives a fuck if he's angry? Grow a spine, Jillian._

"I'm sorry." I breathed, my voice nearly gone.

"You're _sorry?_ That's actually not going to cut it, kiddo. You called my job to confront me? Just who the fuck do you think I am? Have you forgotten? Do you need me to remind you?"

"No!" I pleaded, my voice whiny and small. I was beginning to feel like a teenager all over again. "I'm just so confused and I don't understand why—"

"What I do is my business, not yours. Keep that in mind the next time you're _confused_ because I have no problem with making things _very_ clear for time you're feeling extra brave and find the nerve to put your head in your ass again try double thinking it. And don't call me. You're not exactly the most intriguing person to converse with." He ended the call abruptly.

My phone slipped out of my hand from shock, landing on the floor with a clatter.I could literally not wrap my mind around what just happened. My mouth was wide open, but I wasn't actually breathing. My entire body was shaking as if I were cold, my eyes staring off at nothing in particular. I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't hear anything.

I stayed like that for a while until my sister appeared from nowhere and shook my shoulders. "Earth. To. Ziggy!" She said humorously.

"What?"

"Are you okay, sweetie? Why are you staring out into space with your mouth hanging open? And why is your face bright red?" She held a hand to my forehead inthe same way you do to check for a fever.

I pushed her hand away gently. "I'm fine."

"Why are you blushing so hard?" She asked and I finally blinked back to consciousness. I brought my hands to my cheeks and palmed them, notice how abnormally warm they were. Blushing? Me?

"Maybe…" I said quietly.

Jane shook her head a few times, still staring down to me where I sat. "Maybe what?"

"Maybe I am coming down with something." I said absently as my eyes began to wander again. My heart was pounding in my chest. What the hell is wrong with me?

xxx

Lance appeared in the doorway to my bathroom while I blew my hair dry. I clicked off my hairdryer and asked "What?" when I failed to hear what he'd just asked me.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Nothing if _you're_ cooking." I grumbled, wondering why he was asking.

He rolled his eyes. "Yvette took personal time off today so we have to order takeout. What do you want to eat? Pizza, Chinese, Thai?"

"Thai." I said and clicked my dryer back on, turning around to continue my task. "What?" I clicked it off again when he attempted to say something else.

"You need to be specific, Ziggs."

"Just order me whatever you're getting," I shrugged.

"Fine." He said and then walked away. I bent at the waist and ran my fingers through my hair as I made work with the dryer, making sure to get every strand. When I flipped my mane back and looked in the mirror I grimaced. I needed another haircut already, even though I'd just trimmed it not even two weeks ago. I had way too much hair, and it was crazy long to boot.

Not wanting to deal with straightening the mop on my head, I pulled it into a high bun and let it be.

When I trotted down to the kitchen Lance was sitting on one of the barstools at the counter with his head buried in his cellular device. "Where is the food, Lance?" I asked dryly, beginning to feel my stomach growl.

He didn't look at me when he said, "On the way, Ziggs." With equal boredom.

"Dad?" I asked and then pulled my cellphone out of my pajama shorts to check the time. It was nearly midnight.

"Not home, think he went to some event…" My blood boiled. He's pulling all-nighters with his poker buddies while mom is hospitalized? Disgusting.

I came around and stood in front of Lance, attempting to shake the bad thoughts from my mind. "So what did you think?" I asked expectantly.

"Of?"

My face pulled into a frown. "My job you imbecile."

One of his brows perked up then. "Ah…it was alright I guess."

"That's it? You didn't feel even a little inspired by what I do?"

Lance finally looked up at me then. "Not really…? I mean for the most part all you're doing is looking through a tube at smaller stuff. It's not exactly the coolest thing in the world."

"Got damn it." I grumbled. I was so done with trying to solve a problem that didn't even want to be solved.

"What do you want from me? You expected me to magically instantly become obsessed with the smell of formaldehyde and skin-eating bacteria?"He said humorously. "But to save face for you I'll tell Blane that I was 'blown away' for all intents and purposes."

"I don't need you to lie to help me. If you didn't enjoy yourself just say so."

Lance let out a growl. "Why are you trying to make me look like an asshole, dude? I never said that I didn't enjoy myself—" I held up my hand, urging him to stop. I went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice and searched for a glass.

"Now you're mad at me? I'd like to point out that it wasn't my idea in the first place." He pouted. I rolled my eyes as I drank my juice.

"I'm not mad at you Lance, and since when have you ever cared if someone gets angry with you anyway?" My mind flashed back to all the years my parents fumed at him for the misdemeanors, speeding tickets, and parties where he got piss drunk and came home smelling like weed. He never even bat an eyelash when they screamed him into an oblivion. If there was once thing that Lance was good at besides being a burnout, it was not giving a fuck.

His brows pulled in as if he were confused, "I—"

Both of our heads snapped over when we heard the doorbell ring. "As much as I would love to hear all about how you don't care about hurting my feelings, I'm hungry." I put my glass down, grabbed the $50 bill that Lance had sat on the counter and walked to the front door.

"Boy am I glad to see y—" I lilted as I pulled open the door but nearly choked at who was on the other side.

Theodore made a weird face as he stared down at me, towered over me like a skyscraper…daunted me. "I'm flattered." He said darkly.

"Huh?" I croaked, my hand shaking as I held the door knob. He reached his hand out and pushed the door open all the way to let himself in. When he was finally inside he went up to the hall closet and pulled out a tan pea coat before tossing it to me. I stared at it for a moment.

The coat wasn't even mine. It was Jane's. She doesn't live at home anymore but she's left a lot of her things here and this is one of them. "What?" I asked sheepishly, studying the felt material in my hands.

"Put it on and get outside. You have 30 seconds." He threw over his shoulder and then left me standing there dumbfounded. The door closed and his dark presence disappeared. I looked back at my front door, took in the quiet entryway with my winter boots just beside my feet. It took me a second, but I finally slid the coat on and popped my feet into my shoes.

I pulled the front door open and cringed at the freezing cold air that accompanied it. When I was finally outside I pulled the door shut behind me and jogged down the walkway to the sidewalk where a jet black R8-Coupe with tinted windows hummed quietly, parked on the street.

I approached the passenger side and pulled the handle. Theodore didn't say anything to me as I slid into the car. He just pulled the gearshift into drive and then took off down the street. The entire ride was incredibly unnerving. He didn't even look over to me which made things even more awkward and strange—plus there was no music to drown out the silence. I kept my eyes forward, making sure to not move too much…or breathe.

When the car finally came to a stop and he pulled the key from the ignition I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. My eyes wandered out the window. It was nearly pitch black. The only light source were from the buildings that shone in the far distance. I saw water waning back and forth a few meters from where we were parked and made sense of it all. We were at the port. Several large boats lined the marina below us.

I'd never been to the port this late at night. It was really pretty…You could see the entire city. Why did he bring us here of all places?

That brief moment of fascinationand wonder was quickly gone when I turned over to a very cold pair of clear blue eyes. My blood curdled at his ridiculously intense gaze. His body was halfway facing me, right hand resting on the gearshift as he held his head in the other, elbow on the windowsill. He was wearing a white button down tucked into his black slacks which hugged his body _so_ well; accentuated the muscles in his long legs.

It had been 3 years, and he'd changed a bit butJesus Christ he was still gorgeous. He was more mature looking now with this dark, dangerous, rugged kind of sexy to him, boyish charm nearly gone but he still had that twinkle in his eyes. Not the clean-cut kind of cute like his younger cousin. His eyes were frightening and cold but they did strange and intense things to my body. It wasn't just his physical appearance either, it was in how well he carried was so ridiculously confident all the time, so composed, so in control

"Hi." He said softly and brought his left hand down, placing it on his thigh.

My eyes widened so much that they actually hurt. Without exaggeration, this man has never said 'Hi, Hello, or even Hey' to me as a greeting before. I always thought it was because he believed I wasn't deserving of being properly greeted. I was just an object to him.

"Hello," I replied just as softly.

"Have a nice day?" He asked, but there was no spite or sarcasm behind it. I waited for the snide comment that usually followed but it never came. He simply continued to stare at me and I couldn't tell what he was thinking at all.

Pardon my French but what the _fuck_?

I shook my head, my mouth hanging open. "I...it was okay?"

He tilted his head a bit, a small smile playing on his perfect lips. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you?" I muttered nervously and his eyes narrowed. I cleared my throat, correcting myself. "Telling you."

A moment of silence passed between us as we continued to stare at each other. I didn't know what the hell was going on, or what he was planning to do to me and just the mere idea had me shaking again though the car was still very warm.

Finally, he took in a breath of air between his teeth, his eyes closing as if he were in deep thought. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

I blinked a couple of times. Uh? "Not really…"

"Are you sure you don't know? I'll give you a chance to think about it. Don't just blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind, really _think_ about it." He murmured and then the car fell silent again.

I had no idea what he wanted from me, and after a while I began to think that it was nothing. Theodore loved to play mind games with me. He loved to get under my skin. He relished making me nervous, fearful, making me cry—it gave him an inordinate and atrocious level of satisfaction.

There was a good chance that he was just trying to mess with my head, make me lose my mind as he's done countless times before.

I thought even harder and continued to draw a blank, but then it dawned on me. All the oxygen left my lungs and I went pale. No way…

"Yep." He concurred, confirming my silent suspicion. My eyes fell to my lap. How had it slipped my mind? Possibly because I thought it wouldn't be that big of a deal. How stupid am I?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and attempted to steady my breathing. "I'm…I'm really sorry that I chastised you."

His face pulled into a sympathetic one, eyes kind of sad looking. "You see, sorry doesn't really cut it." Of course it doesn't cut it. It never cuts it—not with him. I have never been let off the hook by simply apologizing. He hated me so much that when I fucked up it was nothing short of the highlight of his day, because then he'd get to punish me.

"I shouldn't have called you."

"You misunderstand. The issue is not the fact that you called me, though it was completely unwanted. The issue is that your balls are getting a way too big for my liking." He said humorously.

"I don't understand why you're funding my research!" I blurted out, completely surprising myself. "If there's one thing that I have in my life that means something to me besides my family it's my work. It's pretty much all I have and I've worked so hard to get to where I am now. I don't want to lose it."

"So you chuck up the courage to call me and confront me like you're _somebody_? Did you actually think I would just tell you everything you wanted to know like an obedient dog? Has 3 years away made you senile? I think you have this whole thing reversed." He chuckled the last part and then made a circular motion with his finger between the two of us.

I hated the way he sounded when he addressed me. It was calm, calculated, and every single word was said with so much conviction and purpose that it made my head spin. The way that Theodore speaks to me is something I will never get used to. He has this profoundness to him that I couldn't describe. Yes of course he was intelligent and incredibly well-spoken and articulate but there was something else to his speech and tone that made him seem like he hated everyone and everything—a spitefulness. Unfortunately, I only ever heard it when he spoke directly to me.

Theodore leaned into me and I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the worst. "Why are you reeling back as if I'm going to hit you?" He asked and I opened one eye."Have I ever hit you?"

My mouth turned into a frown at that question. In the all-out violent sense? Not particularly. He's never hit or kicked me before. He _has_ pushed me before…once, and it was only because I accidentally fell onto him while we were in gym class. That being said, he didn't actually _need_ to hit me to hurt me. He knew how to make me suffer without even raising a finger. I chose not to say that, though, "No."

"Didn't think so. Now please get out of my car." He seethed and slid out of his seat, slammed the door behind him.

I got out of the car and followed quickly behind him to the boardwalk. It was completely desolate, not a soul was to be seen. Probably because it was _midnight_. He stood at the dock and faced the water, just where the boards ended and expanded to the lake.

When I approached him he held out his hand without turning around. "Your phone."

My eyebrows pulled in tightly but I chose not to protest. I dug into my pocket and pulled out my cell, handing it to him. He was quiet as he scrolled through my contacts and messages.

"Who is Carlos?" He asked finally.

"He was a colleague at Berkeley." I muttered. Carlos was literally the only man I had in my contacts besides my brothers and father.

"Have you fucked him?" Theodore asked bluntly, still looking through my messages.

 _Subtly isn't really this guy's strong suit._

I rolled my eyes knowing that he couldn't see my face. "No, I haven't."

"Are you lying to me?" He added…not accusingly, just curiously.

"No. I promise."

He turned around then and gave me a weird look as if I'd sprouted two heads. "Your promises don't mean shit to question. Has anyone touched you?"

My face began to crunch into a shy, nervous one as if I were being scolded. I had to look away from him then because the reality that crashed into me left me nearly breathless because…no.

I don't know how it happened, but 3 years just flew by and I was so immersed with school that I never had the time or even the urge to fill that quota. If I had to be completely honest, and although it _kills_ me to admit it—Theodore ruined me for all other men before I was even an adult. I hated them all, thought that they were all going to hurt me the same way he has. I don't trust men, except for my brothers…even my father in a sense. But other guys? I couldn't bear to open myself up to any of them. No one was interested in me anyway. Who would be? I was nothing special.

I took a deep breath and then shook my head, deciding I'd test his nerves. "What are you going to do if I say yes?"

He didn't hesitate, and with enough iciness to freeze over the base of an active volcano said, "I'll kill you, Jillian." His tone wasn't humorous and it didn't waver even the slightest. He moved closer to me, "Slowly, painfully…Then I'll have your lifeless, lacerated body delivered to your family's doorstep and just…laugh as they scream in terror,"

My whole body began to shake, and it wasn't because I was standing outside in shorts while it was below 30° either. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head finding the ground. I choked back the tears, attempted to keep myself together. "Oh my god," I whimpered. "No…no one has touched me."

He grabbed my face in his hand and forced me to look at him. "Are you lying to me?" He asked again.

I shook my head furiously, my voice cracking as I said. "No one has touched me I swear!"

"What did I say about your promises?" He asked with a faux-apologetic look on his face.

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. "That they don't mean anything to you."

"Is that what I said?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt more tears fall. "My promises don't mean _shit_ to you." I breathed out weakly.

"And they really don't." He assured. His hand released my face and I shivered at the cold that replaced his warmth. "Undress."

My eyes fluttered open and I looked up at him with a confused expression on my face. "Huh?" I whispered, sure that I'd misheard him.

"Clothes. Off. Now." He commanded. My jaw dropped as I continued to stare at him. His eyes remained steady for a short moment before they finally morphed into an irate, impatient guise. He moved closer to me and I stumbled back a bit, nearly falling over into the water. He was so close to me now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body in the freezing cold.

"Are you actually going to make me ask again? That would be 3 times, you know."

I looked around warily, "It's…it's freezing. And we're in public."

He smiled darkly and his beautiful eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight. "I'm aware."

When I didn't make any efforts to move he extended his arm and held my phone in his hand, right above the water. "Okay!" I squealed, moving to unbutton my coat. "Okay…"

I got off my clothes and was standing in nothing but my bra and panties, which by the way weren't exactly the most flattering pair I owned. I glanced up at him and he gave me a bored look. "Everything."

My brows turned in as my eyes found the wooden boards we stood on. I reached around my chest and undid the clasp, sliding my bra off and pushed my underwear to my feet. I crossed my arms and tried to make myself as small as possible as I shivered uncontrollably.

"Let your hair down."I reached around my head and pulled the tie out, allowing my hair to fall down my back. "Kneel." He said and after a moment I did. I got down on my knees where I was eye-level with his groin.

"Here's the thing," He began. "If you ever pull some shit like you did today again, I can't promise that I'll be so forgiving. I may just be in a ridiculously good mood right now. You're really pushing your fucking luck with me, you know that?"

"I just—"

"Shut the FUCK up. Don't…" He stopped himself abruptly, covered his face with one hand to mask the irritation. "Don't interrupt. Don't look at me." He murmured and I quickly averted my gaze.

"Are you still confused?" He asked quietly. I bit down on my lip and shook my head. He lifted his leg and pressed the bottom of his shoe to my shoulder, shoving me back slightly. "I didn't hear you?"

"No, I'm not confused anymore."

"Are things _in perspective_ for you now?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Thank fuck for that! We can't have you being out of sorts like that again. You and me? We've gotta be on the same page at all times, right?"

His foot was still pressed into my shoulder, the sharp heel from his oxford was beginning to jag my skin. It hurt…a lot. I was shaking like a jackhammer, colder than I think I've ever been in my whole life.

"Sleepy?" He called out impatiently but I was too in my own head to answer. How would I even? I couldn't see his face but I knew he couldn't have had the nicest expression. I kept my eyes on the ground, fighting to keep my shoulders from quivering, keep my voice low and keep the tears from my eyes. I wanted to go back home. I didn't want to be here with him anymore, outside in a weird place naked and shivering.

"Nothing?" He asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and then with almost no strength in my muscles, reached out to grab him. I got a good grip on his pant leg, the one that wasn't against my shoulder and yanked it. "I will never be so brazen again. Please, Theodore…"

After what felt like an hour of silence between us all the oxygen left my body. There was a hard pressure on my shoulder, forced my body backward. The world was turned upside down, the night sky gleamed and twinkled across my face. I screamed as I tumbled back and air cradled me before ice cold water surrounded my body.

 _Oh my god!_

The water was so cold that it stung and burned my skin. When I resurfaced, Theodore was standing on the dock, looking down at me with a bored and tired expression on his face. I swam to the edge and reached for the ladder to pull myself up. My hand slipped several shivered and shook too much to get a good grip on the handles. There was an annoyed grunt and then he grabbed my wrist, pulling me up and out of the water completely with a single motion. I fell to my knees and curled my body in, hands over my chest as I bent into my thighs. The jitters wracked over me again and again. I was sobbing, blubbering sobbing. Seriously, the tears wouldn't stop.

"Don't say my _fucking_ name." He said slowly, matter-of-factly…spitefully. "Why do you exist?" He asked with disgust. The words made me feel nauseous. He then picked up the coat; threw it at my wet, shivering body. I plucked it from the deck and hugged it to my chest. I had never experienced a sensation like this before. I didn't even think it was possible to be this cold. I couldn't even flex my fingers, my legs just barely moved and bucked beneath me. I struggled with wet and shaky hands to pull my clothes back on.

He turned around and his footsteps grew more distant down the boardwalk. I looked up and he'd disappeared from sight. The cold air blistered around me as I stood and attempted to walk. I searched around but as I feared, he was gone, car missing from where he'd parked.

I hugged my body tightly, attempting to stay warm and then searched around my pockets.

"My phone." I whimpered aloud. He'd taken it, it was nowhere to be found on me. He took my phone and left me in the freezing cold soaking wet several miles away from my house.

What unfathomable, sporadic, indentured evil. I covered my face with my hands as I walked down the poorly lit asphalt road, quelling the tears that refused to stop falling. This was nothing…he'd done so much worse to me.

So…why couldn't I calm myself? Why was I still the same girl?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Bless you." Arthur said after I released a huge, unattractive sneeze.

I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand and sniffled a bit. "Thanks."

"Coming down with something?"

"Yes. Depression." I mumbled under my breath.

"What?" He asked, leaning closer to me.

I shook my head and continued swabbing my samples onto the slides, preparing them for encasing. I was definitely coming down with a cold, my eyes were itchy and red and my nose wouldn't stop dripping. But it was Friday and I would have the whole weekend to fight it back down, so I muscled through.

I tried so hard not to think about the reason I probably had pneumonia in the making. If I did I'd just get angry…angri-er than I already was. I hadn't even realized how rough I was being with my cotton swabs until I broke one against the glass I was rubbing.

Arthur sighed a bit. "I think you should maybe just take the day off, Jill."

I didn't look at him and continued my task. "I'm fine."

 _Cough, cough._ I held my hand to my mouth and grimaced at the sound that had just escaped it.

Shit.

"Jill!You sound like a dog being run over by a truck." He stood from his stool at the opposite side of the table and moved to my side. He grabbed everything in my hands and set it all down. "You need to leave. You're _literally_ too sick to be here."

I gave him a pleading look. I couldn't leave yet…I had so much work to do today. "It's only 9 AM, though. Can't I at least stay until 12?"

He gave me a weird look and began to usher me out of the lab. "No. Go home! Hopefully you're feeling better on Monday. For now I'll take care of your duties. Shoo."

He closed the door in my face and I had to fight back the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. Could I even? My throat was so sore that it made me cringe and choke every time I inhaled. This was actually the most infuriating day I've had in a long time. I really had a ton of work to do! I was behind because I had Lance distracting me all day on Wednesday. It wasn't his fault though—I planned to take care of everything today and yesterday. I'd only managed to get a few of my replications done, when I was meant to finish them all. Now my new cultures were going to die and I'll have to start all over again! My head was freaking _pounding_ and the daylight burned my eyes. What was the point of arguing with him? I know very well the policy of coming to school as sick as I am. It's simply not allowed—in fact, if my boss had seen me I could've actually gotten in a lot of trouble. However, the penalties seemed elementary compared to the hell that I've been going through.

When I got home, I dropped my keys on the nightstand and did a face-plant onto my bed, digging my face into the pillow. "Help me please!" I said in a muffled lull. I just want to be healthy again so that I could go back to work…that's all I wanted. "Grant me reprieve!" I begged.

"Miss Jillian? Miss Jillian? Miss?"

My head shot up and I held myself with one arm, looking all around. I wiped the drool from my mouth and winced at the lights coming through the blinds. How long have I been asleep? "Yvette?" I croaked out when I set eyes on the housekeeper. She was holding a breakfast tray between her hands.

She set the tray down on my nightstand and went over to the window, shut the curtains. Then she began adjusting me, pulling the covers over my body. "I heard you coughing like a dog while I was cleaning. You're so sick, dear." She held her hand to my forehead and jumped back a little when I let out a huge cough.

"Sorry…" I grumbled.

Yvette placed the tray on my legs. It was chicken noodle soup and some cold medicine. "Ah, thanks…"

"Drink it all," She ordered softly. "How on Earth did you manage to get so sick? You usually take good care to _not_ get colds."

"Maybe I'm losing my charm." I quipped as I picked up the spoon and took a drag of the soup. The salty goodness warmed up my body. "I'm going to the hospital to see my mom in about an hour so if I fall asleep could you wake me up, please?"

She shook her head. "With all due respect miss, I think you should stay home."

I glared at her. My head hurt so freaking badly and I was in such a bad mood. "I'm _going_ to see my mom today, Yvette."

"You're ill Miss Jillian, I'm sure that it's not in your best interests to be going out like this."

"Yvette…"

"Your eyes are bloodshot and your skin is burning up. If you try over-exerting yourself, _you'll_ be in the hospital. There's always tomorrow. For today, rest." She grabbed the tray from me after I popped my cold medicine and cringed at the terrible orange flavor. I downed that soup way too quickly, didn't even realize how hungry I was.

I watched as she exited the room, turned the lights off and shut the door behind her.

 _Perfect._

I don't get to work and I don't get to visit my sick mother. Could this day get any better? What did I do in a past life that has put me in such a horrible situation?

" _Why do you live?"_

My stomach clenched and I dove under the covers to hide my head, closed my eyes, hyperventilated. I tried to fall asleep.

"Miss Jillian?"

"Go away Yvette! I can only take so much bullshit in one hour." I screamed. "Just leave me alone to die!"

"You have a visitor, miss."

I sat up quickly and looked to her with wide eyes. My mouth went dry…er. Oh god, no! He can't leave me be for a couple of days? Sometimes he would go weeks without even looking at me. I miss those times. "A visitor?"

"Yes…shall I send her away?" She asked as she held the doorknob, prepared to close it.

My brows scrunched together… _her_? "Who?"

"It's Miss Penny, ma'am." I scrambled from under the covers and sprinted out the door, down the staircase.

She was standing at the landing, looking up at me with those huge brown eyes. It took everything in me to not screech at the mere sight of her. She was wearing a yellow sundress and had a pair of white polka-dotted sunglasses pushed over her wavy dark brown locks that were still long, long, long! Her hair has always fallen past her ass for as long as I can remember. She simply did not cut it…ever.

She smiled huge as I approached her, "Nini!" I whined desperately as I practically leaped into her outstretched arms.

"Gigi!" She whined back, squeezing me in her arms as she did.

I pulled away and squealed. "I didn't know you were back in town!"

She bopped me on the nose with her pointer finger. "Dude that is literally _my_ line. Why didn't you call me?"

I was so excited and flabbergasted that I was stuttering over my own words. "I didn't even know?! When did you get back from New York?" I asked as we held each other at arms-length with huge face-splitting smiles on our faces.

"I've been back for almost 3 months now. When the _hell_ did you get back from California?"

"A week ago! How'd you know I was…?"

Her eyes turned sad then and started to water a bit. "My parents told me about your mom, sis, I'm so sorry!" She pulled me in and crushed my body to hers, holding onto me from dear life.

I shook my head, holding her tightly. "Don't cry, please—I'll cry too and I'm already in enough pain." With that being said, I quickly but gently pushed her away. "I'm sick." I said simply when I took in her confused expression.

She gave me an 'are-you-kidding-me' look and hugged me back to her again. "I've missed you so muchGi," She mumbles and she rocked me back and forth in her arms.

"How long are you here?" I asked.

"I moved back 3 months ago, I'm working on building my interior design agency here."

I gave her a funny look when I pushed away. "I thought you were dead-set on starting a life in New York…what happened?"

"Life happened…I'm here for now and that's all that matters." She assured, not giving away anything. I assumed she didn't want to damper the mood. She had the tendency to do that…a lot. I knew that later on I was going to have to pick her brain to figure out what was really going on, why she gave up on starting her business in New York when it was the only thing she dreamed about when we were kids. "We should do lunch." She lilted, slicing through my reverie. "When you're not leaking from your nose that is…"

My eyes widened and I turned away slightly, wiping the snot from my top lip with the back of my hand. "Oh god," I mumbled.

"I can't even remember the last time I saw you with a cold…?" She said, her eyes drifting off nostalgically. "You always bundle up really well before you go outside."

I resisted the urge to just up and tell her how I'd gotten so sick. How the hell do you even explain something like that in casual conversation? This wasn't even a head cold. It could possibly be pneumonia. My chest felt like a block of lead. "It's actually not that bad." I lied.

"Hmm…" She eyed me speculatively and then crossed her arms.

"Enough about me…I want to hear all about you! Wait, YVETTE, CAN YOU PUT OUT SOME TEA AND SNACKS PLEASE? She's holding me prisoner because of the cold…I really wanted to see my mom today, though."

"Gigi, slow down—we have plenty of time to catch up." I narrowed my eyes and waited for the impending 'but'. "But you're sick…like…gross sick." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes because damn it she was right. "We can hang out on Monday…hell even tomorrow if you're feeling better. Sleep, okay?"

She saw my disappointed frown and immediately her eyes softened. "Okay, okay…I can stay for," She glanced at her watch. "30 minutes. And then you're going to rest—"

"I'll take it!" I squealed, grabbing her arm and skipping into the living room. I collapsed onto the longer sofa and she took a seat on the smaller armchair beside me. I pulled the duvet off the back of the couch and snaked it around my exposed legs, then gave her my undivided attention.

She took a deep breath, collapsing under my expectant gaze. Her walls were down. "Harry and I broke up." She said on a shrug.

My smile immediately fell. Harry has been Penny's sweetheart since our sophomore year, and they were friends for even longer before that. I'd honestly thought that they were a match made in heaven…soulmates.

Yes, I believe in soulmates. I was mushy like that, but only because those two gave me reason to be. I mean, the way they looked at each other…the way _he_ looked at _her_. I always believed that's the way all girls want to be looked at.

"What happened?" I muttered quietly.

She gave me a sad smile and then looked away. "He cheated."

"Oh sweetie…" I whispered, covering my gasp with my hand. "No…"

" minute everything was great. We had just finished the final touches on our Manhattan townhouse. Next thing I know, not even two days later I find him underneath our housing contractor's wife on our brand new bed in our brand new bedroom. I couldn't take it, he moved out but I couldn't bear to be in that house another minute…in that city where he'd seemingly already forgotten about me with his new… _philandering_ habits. He and I are in the same social circle, duh…so word gets to me quickly." She covered her face with her hands and I wanted so badly to reach out and hold her but I didn't want to smother her with any more of my germs.

"Nini…Why didn't you call me?" I croaked.

She laughed then. "As if I could have found the courage to call you. You were the one who told me to not jump into things. You told me to slow down with the whole 'moving your unemployed childhood sweetheart across the country with you'. I'm so embarrassed." I choked back a sob. She didn't call me because she thought I was going to rub it in her face?

That was not at all my intention when I told her to 'be careful'. I just thought the worst that would happen was he'd stay unemployed and turn into a couch potato because she'd grown accustomed to showering him with lavish gifts. I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined Harry cheating on Penny. For Christ sakes she was independent, smart, and not to mention absolutely stunning. I'd been sure he knew what he had, but apparently I was way off. I'm not as good at reading people as I thought I was.

"Ziggy…" She muffled between her hands and then looked up at me, eyes watering. "How could I have been so stupid?"

That was enough for me. I was off the couch and at her knees, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "You are _not_ stupid Penny. He is. Outrageously so. The only mistake you made was giving your love to someone who didn't deserve it. It happens to the best of us."

Her lip quivered as she kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, her head thrown back, refusing to look at me. "Look at me!" I groaned, shaking her knees under my palms. She finally looked down and her eyes were threatening to flow over with tears but she did a good job of holding them back. I'd always admired how skillful she was at that. "How long have we been best friends?" I asked.

She choked out a laugh, "Too long?Since pull-ups."

"And as your best friend, do you think that I would now or at any point in the past have held any kind of accusatory stance over this?"

"You're not really the confrontational type…you more disapprove with your eyes." She used her pointer finger to slide between my eyes.

I rolled them. "I don't think any less of you because of this, Ni. If anything I admire how strong you are for coming out of this and I can tell that you're stronger than ever because of it."

She shook her head and a few tendrils of her pretty hair fell over her shoulder. She held her chest as if there was pain. "I don't feel strong Ziggy…it's been months and I just feel like I'm getting weaker and weaker. It hurts so much. I woke up this morning and I just...stared at myself in the mirror for like an hour. I'm starting to think that I just wasn't enough for him."

"You're everything Penny! What more could I guy ask for, you are literally the whole package. Ass, thighs, boobs, pretty face, cutest personality. Hell—if I had a penis…"

"Oh lord."

"I would use that penis…I would helicopter with it in the mirror first," I ticked it off on my hand. "Then I would probably try and stick things inside of my urethra for shits and giggles, but then THEN…I would so totally pork you with it."

She held up her hands to her face, throwing her head back and I smiled widely as the chuckles made her body shake. "Fucking hell..."

"I'd stick in in things too, like between the rubber parts of a fridge. And then I would of course have to masturbate with it." I mumbled so quietly I was sure she didn't hear me but when she slaps her thigh and laughs even harder I dismiss that thought. "It's a given, right? I can't magically sprout a penis and then just not play with it, right? I wouldn't want a small one though, I'd want like…a long veiny boomerang dick. Something that goes past my knee. Pull on it, see how far I can cum—measure it with a yardstick…the cum, not my dick."

She wiped the happy tears from her eyes and then fanned her face. "S-stop please…Oh I'm so glad you're still the same."

I held out my arms, sure that I still looked and behaved exactly the same as I did a year ago when we last saw one another. "Couldn't change if I wanted to."

"Please don't," She begged, her eyes pleading. "I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. It was a stupid thing to do, keeping it from you. I should have known better."

"Uh, yeah."

"But that's pretty much all that's going on with me, what about you?" She asked softly.

"Well my mother is deathly ill, that's about it." I said dryly as I sat back on my butt and pulled my knees to my chest, looking up at her tiredly.

"She's going to make it through this, Gigi. She made it the first time, she's going to make it this time too." My throat clenched as I remember the first time my mother was diagnosed. It had been the darkest day of all our lives. I was in my 2nd year of college, a brainless 19-year-old loser who also happened to be subjected to the occasional scrutiny every holiday that my tormentor returned from college in Boston. It had been a toll I wasn't prepared for—hell—none of us were, but we made it through, and we thought the worst was behind us.

It was worse this time though, way worse. She hadn't needed to be in a coma before. I could tell when I looked at her, held her semi-warm, lifeless hand in mine that she was in excruciating pain. It was slowly decaying every bit of hope I had left, which by the way wasn't a ton to begin with.

"I sure hope so." I choked. "Because if she's gone…this family is going to fall apart." More specifically me.

"I was actually asking more how you were doing, though." She said and I looked up at her. "It's not like you to be sick at home on a weekday…or any day for that matter. What's the deal?"

I shrugged. "I just caught a cold, Nini…that's all. No biggie."

"That _is_ the biggie Gigi…have you stopped looking after your health? Is that what this is? Are you not eating enough oranges?" She hounded me with question after question.

"Jeez…oranges? Really? You think that I caught a cold because I'm not eating a lot of oranges?" I scrunched up my face.

"It's just that I know you and—"

"I went skinny dipping in a lake a few days ago, okay?" I admitted and it wasn't a lie either!

Her jaw fell open and it took her a while to fully process that sentence. When she did, her face screwed up and she gave me a sly grin. "No you didn't."

I gave her an equally disbelieving look. "I did."

Her face rested for a second but then immediately went back to the way it was. "No…" She scoffed.

"Yes." I laughed.

"Were you coaxed into it or something? Was it for a science thing?"

I shrugged my shoulders, desperately wanting this part of the conversation to be over already. "Sure."

She narrowed her eyes at me, a small smile pulling at the corner of her pink, full lips. "Mhm…"

xxx

It was Monday and I was feeling a hell of a lot better—way better. The migraine had ceased after 4 long days of recuperation. However, my childhood best friend and royal her-highness shopaholic picked me up from work, stating that I was needed. It was for naught. She needed me as a shopping buddy, surprise! I didn't mind shopping with Penny (or watching her shop while I picked my nails), but I did mind being bamboozled. It was Monday so the mall was fairly empty. I sat in the dressing room of some expensive boutique that I couldn't pronounce the name of curled up in my little corner as she tried on this and that before asking my opinion.

Penny emerged from the dressing room with a huge smile on her face. She gave me a small twirl and I tilted my head as the pale blue skirt fluttered and swirled around her body. The lace curved her small waist delicately and looked beautiful in contrast to her flawless skin.

"It's nice." I said.

Her smile fell. "Just nice?"

I shrugged, what the hell did she want me to do? Fall to my knees and weep with joy over how gorgeous she is? Cause I'd do that. "I like it."

"I'm not convinced." She turned to look at herself in the mirror.

I leaned forward on the silk ottoman where I sat, directly behind her. "Don't you have enough skirts Penny?"

"Not in blue." She said matter-of-factly, throwing a 'hur-dur' look over her shoulder. "And you don't own enough." She grumbled, "It wouldn't kill you to wear a skirt every now and then."

I thought on that for a while. "I own skirts."

I saw her eyes roll in the mirror as she continued to check herself out. Her belly-button piercing was a silver ball that went through the top of the naval skin. It looked cute on her, but made her look so youthful.

She turned around. "I'm getting this one."

There were several shopping bags at my feet, and I felt my leg wobble and tremor as I bounced it up and down impatiently. We have been shopping for nearly 3 hours. How is she not tired? I can't shop for 10 minutes without wanting to eat something and lie down. I don't really shop anyway…for clothes that is. Medicine cabinet restocking shopping was my thing. I loved buying painkillers and Neosporin.

I stated, "Fine. Can we go get something to eat now? I'm starving."

"Course. Wanna see a movie too?" She asked from inside of the dressing room.

I shook my head though I knew she couldn't see me. "I'll see how I feel after I _eat_."

"You have always loved eating. I envy how you can eat as much as you do and still stay thin. One chocolate chip cookie and I have to spend the next day crying on the treadmill at the gym."

I sighed at that, crossing my arms. "I'm not thin, Penny."

"Shut up Ziggy." She grunted and then emerged from the little hut with her skirt on the hanger. When she looked at me again her arms dropped to her sides and her face twisted in exasperation. "We've been to like five stores, you didn't see a single thing you liked?"

"Seven and no." I corrected sullenly.

"Not even a pair of undies from Pink?"

I stood up and shoved her bags at her chest. "Undies from Pink." I parroted, mocking her voice. She stuck her tongue out at me and went to check out what she wanted at the cashier.

When we got down to the food court, had everything we wanted in hand and sat down I was finally at peace. I stuffed my hamburger into my gullet like a machine, moaned in satisfaction. "At last, my love." I sighed around a mouthful of bread and beef.

Penny poked at her salad, smiling fondly at me. "Loser." She muttered and then leaned forward with a napkin in hand. "Ketchup on your cheek."

I took it, used it with little precision and went back to my personal double patty heaven. "So where are you setting up shop for your agency?" I asked.

"Bellevue actually." She said excitedly.

"But you live in Renton don't you? It's kind of far…"

"I got a really good price on the building though," I nodded my head at that. "I've already got the unimportant stuff figured out. All I need is to mark up a good business plan to get the ball rolling. Oh!—" She squealed, pointing at me. "Could you help me with that?"

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me with hope in them. I swallowed what I was chewing on and scrunched up my nose. "Pardon?"

"My business projection, didn't you minor in it in college?"

I blinked a couple of times, collecting my thoughts. "I minored in statistics, babe."

"So you don't know anything about business?" She said, her excitement fading.

"You could just hire someone to do it for you. You know what," I thought on it for a moment. "My brother could probably help you…"

Penny stopped moving completely, her entire body turned to ice. "Blane?" She said, her voice low.

"Uh, yeah?" I chuckled. "Wait…You don't still have a crush on him do you?"

Her eyes widened into dinner plates. "Me?!" She yelled in an exaggerated way, her voice high and pitchy. "Pfff…Crush on Blane…"

My face fell into an expressionless one. "Subtle."

Her eyes turned sad then and the shaky, fake humorous façade faded. "Not everyone can be as calm and collected as you Gi,"

"I'm a lot of things, but collected isn't one of them." She gave me an unconvinced look so I tried her by admitting, "I tried to comb my hair with a pair of chopsticks once."

She shook her head and took a bite of her leafy salad. "Sounds like intuitive innovation to me."

I had to roll my eyes and then leaned back a little, exposing my frumpy yellow button down. Penny didn't waste any time and held a hand up to stop me. "Yes, you look like anangry lemon today."

I snorted. "I was actually going for a depressed banana."

"Yeah no, now I'm seeing it…" She agreed.

I moved to get us back on topic. "So do you want my brother's help or not? He knows business and I'm sure he'll help you for free if I give him a really dark and twisted ultimatum."

Her eyes volleyed back and forth, her mind going a million miles a minute. Then, she lowered her head and looked visibly uncomfortable. "I guess…you could give him my portfolio…"

"No, _you_ can give him your portfolio. I'm not a carrier pigeon." I said dryly.

"Okay, okay. Fine." She grumbled, still picking at her salad. Her eyes flicked up to mine for a split second. "Is he…single?"

I took another bite of my burger and spoke through my food like an animal. "Didn't you just get out of an eight year relationship?"

"The wounds have healed for the most part. And I wouldn't mind mending the remainder of those wounds with your sexy as hell older brother."

"Ew." I said simply and her smile widened, lights dancing across her face.

Immediately, memories of Penny coming over to my house when we were little came to mind. She'd stare longingly at Blane with stars in her eyes, wrote poetry and love letters that she ended up throwing away in the end. Of course she was 13 and he was 17 so it was completely out of the question, but the fact of the matter was—he didn't see her that way. Actually, I doubt he saw her at all. Don't get me wrong, Penny is a peach, but she's shy as hell. She has the worst trouble with speaking to men that she's interested in which is why her and Harry cliqued so well—he made the first move and was persistent.

"Blane has never been in a stable relationship his whole life. I think he has commitment issues." And deeply rooted ones at that. You'd think that with parents who have been married for 30+ years he'd know the image of a good relationship. My brother bounces back and forth between women more that any man his age should.

She raised a hand, her face innocent and full of wonder. "That's fine. I'll be his plow horse."

That's when I dropped my burger, appetite gone. "Thank you. Now I can no longer eat less the contents of my stomach be spewed upon the floor. I kindly extend my utmost gratitude for your contribution to my unwanted diet." I began cleaning up my tray, wiped my face with a napkin. Penny had barely touched her salad. Oh god, I hope she wasn't binging again. I don't think I could handle that level of emotional sickness at the moment.

"Okay! If you're not going to purchase a single article of clothing we can at least get you a mani-pedi. I'm sure your feet look like the bottom of a crocodile."

"Whatever will get you to stop talking, Nini." I said tiredly. A pedicure didn't sound too bad actually, and I could just get a basic gel coat for my manicure with clear polish. My nails were getting kind of long. I was also long overdue for a waxing session. I didn't wear revealing clothes, and I wasn't having sex either so it may seem strange. I just like the feeling of having no hair on my body…

Penny jumped with joy and then followed my lead, gathering all of her things. "Meek." She quipped.

"Meander," I countered.

"Moron."

"Maggot."

"Mmm….I got nothing." She sighed.

I leaned in with a smug grin on my face. "I win."

xxx

 **Eight Years Ago…**

" _Find your purpose, my love, don't let that purpose slip away. Cling to it. Eat, sleep, and breathe it. Your means to an end will be a conundrum and it's your mission to solve it."_

 _Mom…_

" _Don't cry Flower, you're too brave."_

 _Mom…I don't feel brave. I feel weak._

" _But you're strong, dear. So strong."_

 _I don't feel strong._

 _How do I fix it?_

 _Today had been quiet mostly, that didn't last very long though. I don't know how, but he always found me. Even in the darkest of days, in the most shadowy of nights, he lurked behind me like a silhouette. He was like gravity itself. I couldn't escape. He grounded me._

 _He was surrounded by his usual cronies, bunched up at his side and attached to his hip as per usual. He was leaning against his locker and looking down at his cell phone. Had he seen me? I couldn't tell. His locker was right across from mine—what luck! I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what. The words that lingered on my lips as unsaid confusion riled me to slap my mouth closed. He wouldn't hear me anyway, and even if he could…he wouldn't listen. I thought better of it, deciding instead to walk away. I closed my locker, clutched my books in my arms and began in the direction that led to my 5_ _th_ _period classroom._

 _Bodies crawled past me hurriedly as the bell whistled over my head. I was going to be late and that's when panic began to erupt from my gut. I was never late to class. I was doing a lot of uncharacteristic things now a days._

 _As the hallways began to thin out my legs moved even faster. I could see the door to my homeroom just ahead and garnered a small hint of relief._

 _However this relief quickly dissipated as I felt a hand clench my wrist tightly before yanking me back. So much panic and frustration filled me in that moment. "Let go." I muttered under my breath, not even bothering to look back. I knew who it was, and when his rough and deep voice cut through my protest my suspicions were confirmed._

" _Come again?" I couldn't see his face but I knew he had to be furious. I kept my eyes trained on the ground. "You want to repeat that?"_

 _I blinked up hesitantly and met his steely cold glare. His eyes were tense, and the color reflected the iciness of glaciers with facets of gray splattered between them. His brows push in tighter as he stared down at me. He was so tall that it haunted me sometimes, even though I was 5'6 he still towered over me at an intimidating 5'9._

 _I swallowed hard and then whimpered when his grip tightened around my wrist, yanking me even harder than before. I shook my head furiously and then shrunk as a small, humorless grin began to curves his lips._

" _Come with me." He ordered, letting go of me finally before turning around, assuming I would follow._

" _But I have class…" My feet were glued in place, voice was so small and weak I barely recognized it._

 _He turned around so fast that it made me jump back a bit. He stormed over to me before snatching my books and papers out of my hand and slamming them into the ground. His eyes were filled with so much annoyance that it shattered my soul. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears begin to form behind them._

 _Why does he hate me so much?_

 _The hall was completely empty now with only him and me standing in complete silence. His face moved closer to mine and in a low, menacing tone he whispered to me "Do I look like I give a fuck about what you have? Move." He kicked the books at my feet and a couple papers went flying away. He turned around again and began in the direction that he intended with at first. I crouched down and gathered my things wordlessly, biting back the stinging sensation at the back of my eyes. Then I followed him._

" _Where are we going?" I asked sheepishly._

 _He ignored me all the way out to the parking lot. His car was parked in one of the front spots with several rows that stretched behind it, the spots that you could only park in if you were somebody in this god-forsaken hellhole of a school. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and clicked the lock before opening his door._

" _Get in." He said coldly. I hurried over to the passenger door and pulled the handle before sliding into the seat._

 _He got in right after me and started the car in one swift motion. "Are we skipping school?" I asked nervously. I didn't skip school. That wasn't me at all. Father would be absolutely furious if he found out. I already walk on thin ice with him as it is._

" _Theodore I can't skip—" I tried to get out quickly but he threw a look at me with such disgust in his eyes it made me recoil and I had to look away immediately or I'd break down right there._

" _Don't ever say my name. We've been through this." He said coolly before shifting the gear into reverse and pulling out of the spot._

" _Where are we going?" I tried again although I was confident that I'd still be ignored._

 _What I didn't expect was not only his reply, but what his reply was. "I'm going to take you to my house and pound you into my bed like the worthless cum drenched toy you are." He said as if it were the most casual, natural thing in the world._

 _I squeezed my thighs together, fighting the way my head spun at the way he referred to me._

 _Why did the sound of that coming out of his mouth sound so…vulgar? What is wrong with me? He didn't say it to rile me up, he said it to demean and humiliate me. Which is why I couldn't understand why I wanted to be just that for him; a toy to use for whatever his heart desired. The idea that he desired me, even the smallest glint that he wanted me always made my heart skip a beat._

 _But I knew better. I wasn't special to him. I was just one of the many girls he played with, one of the dozens of hearts he breaks daily. Our school was big, but news travelled quickly. Oh yes—the guy was truly well versed in the art of the female gender._

 _My eyes drifted over to him as he sped down the highway like a madman. I studied his long lashes, the fullness of his lips, and the sharpness of his jaw…the way it matched his perfectly shaped nose. His hair was dark and thick, clean, styled perfectly, and I wanted so badly to reach over and pull it hard, not for a sexual rise, just to hurt him. I had to lace my fingers together to hold back the impulse. Theodore didn't like it when I touched him. In fact he seemed to completely hate it._

 _I studied his hardened expression even more._

 _He was growing impatient, white knuckling the steering wheel. His jaw flexed beneath the skin as his teeth ground together._

 _My heart was pounding._

 _To say I was afraid would be an understatement. Lately he'd been getting more and more obsessed with being alone with me, but now that obsession has morphed into an all-out rage. He's always handled me roughly, but now it was just plain visceral. I've always been afraid of him, ever since I was younger, but now I was just plain terrified._

 _When we pulled into his driveway, he angrily told me to 'get the fuck out' and shakily, I did. I've only ever been to his house a few times before, and it was as his younger sister's guest, long before he even knew that I existed. The mansion was enormous as it was beautiful, with lush greenery as far as the eye could see. The driveway was a stony marble that reflected in the afternoon sun, shining against it like starlight. Inside were all the makings of a loving home with family portraits on almost every square inch of the walls along with breathtaking crème-themed décor. I briefly envied the warmth that I felt while being here. I've never had such luck._

 _As soon as we were in his bedroom he pulled his plain white v-neck shirt over his head, not even bothering to look back at me as I stood in the center of the space. My belly flipped when he said "Undress. Now." My shoes were planted in the white carpet and I stood hinged there in the center of the neatly cleaned place._

 _I'd never been in his room before. It was your typical teenage boy's room, though. Aside from the fact that it was eerily clean, floor spotless and bed made, but I suspected someone else kept it that way. The Grey's were extremely wealthy, they had maids and security personnel. He's probably never cleaned anything in his life. Trophies, sports equipment and the works were scattered in the farthest regions, on shelves. His dresser housed photos of friends and family. The closet was wide open and I could see clothes in there, all darkly colored, neatly folded and organized._

" _Hey," He snapped, finally looking back at me. His command had fallen upon deaf ears, and unintentionally I'd ignored him. "Don't make me ask again." He said through clenched teeth, the words exiting his mouth clipped and bothered._

 _With weak hands I began unbuttoning my shirt. Slowly, he sat at the edge of his bed and watched me. I pushed my skirt down my hips and couldn't help but notice the boredom etched across his perfect face._

 _And then I was naked, standing in front of him feeling as exposed and cowardly as always. The silence in the room stretched onwards between us. I couldn't take it anymore and finally glanced up._

 _His looks were actually preposterous. It didn't make any sense whatsoever how handsome he was. He was well built, not too bulky, not too thin and toned to the nines from all the track and baseball. His abs were subtle yet prominent, and I loved the way they felt when he pressed his body into mine. Hated the fact that it drove me crazy—hated him._

 _And he hated me too. It was more than apparent when he would touch me, so cold and violently. He didn't like me, not even a little bit, and that reflected in every word he spit at me. That was the enigma, Theodore Grey, single hottest and most popular guy at East High. Rich, good-looking, intelligent…he was perfect in every single way. But the smile he put on for the commonwealth of the school nauseated me because I knew who he really was beneath that mask. He was a monster, and he was fucking scary. But for some reason, only to me._

 _His cold, silver blue eyes were assessing me quietly. "Come here," He breathed, his voice deep and clear. I moved over to him slowly and cautiously until I was between his spread legs, the front of my thighs touching the mattress and a bit of the fabric from his jeans._

 _He abruptly grabbed my arms before prying them away from my chest and forced them to my sides, leaving my breasts completely exposed. I'd always been self-conscious about my chest, thinking they were too big—especially for my age._

 _He brought his face even closer and I squeezed my eyes at the sensation of his breath against my skin. I felt his nose brush against my nipple and let out an embarrassing and wobbly moan, every pore on my skin rising at the sensation. He ran his hand up my outer thigh and came around to cup my ass, squeezing hard._

" _Did he touch you?" He asked quietly, calmly._

 _My eyes fluttered open and when I caught sight of his expression my throat closed tightly. "I—what?" I asked confusedly. I didn't know what he was talking about._

" _That fucker from your stupid geek club…did you honestly think that I wouldn't know?" He elaborated and my skin went cold._

 _Lawrence Fallon. Were in the physics club together. He…I mean I think he has a crush on me? I had no idea until yesterday, when he'd gotten a bit too friendly and tried to kiss me in the hallway after 3_ _rd_ _period after a cheeky and way too overly familiar hug._

 _Theodore annunciated. "Did. He. Fucking. Touch. You?"_

" _No," I squeaked, cutting him off slightly. "No, I promise."_

 _Before I could even process what was happening my face was planted firmly into his mattress sheets and my arm was behind my back, leaving me helpless and restrained. I cried at the shooting pain that went through my shoulder before it was replaced by a sudden expulsion of air from my lungs. Theodore settled his knee onto my back, the entire weight of him seeming to press into my body._

" _You're lying to me." His voice was dark, distant and husky._

 _I took a deep breath and pleaded with him, "I'm not Theodore! I promise!"_

 _He squeezed my arm even harder then, pressing it into my back more forcefully. I coughed out another cry into the mattress, grateful for how well it muffled the shriek that escaped the back of my throat. It hurt so much._

" _What did I tell you about calling me by my name? Are you inadvertently telling me to fuck off?"_

" _I'm sorry," I breathed through the pain and tears. My voice was so soft that I myself barely heard it_

" _I have eyes and ears everywhere you vapid cunt. I saw the two of you. Do you think that I'm stupid?" His voice was steady, but he sounded offended as hell. Genuinely offended. "Would you like to change your answer now?"_

" _H-He put his arm around my shoulder,"_

 _I felt the wind being knocked out of me entirely when a hand landed firmly on my ass. I screamed. Loud. I prayed that only he and I were alone in his house._

" _What else did he do?"_

 _I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't see through the tears anyway. "He just gave me a hug after and that was it—" I screamed again as another heavy hand rained down onto my ass. "I didn't let him, he—" Slap. "We were practicing for the Physics Bowl and after—" SLAP._

" _Shut up, I don't want to hear anymore." My bottom burned and the tears wouldn't stop falling, sinking into the covers under my face. "You think you're pretty now, do you?"_

" _Nooo," I whined, my throat sore and desiccate. "I'm not p-pretty."_

" _You're so fucking stupid you know that?"_

 _I nodded frivolously, "I'm stupid…"_

" _Someone gives you a little attention and you wag your ass at them? You're not attractive, do you understand?" SLAP!_

 _Oh god it hurt so much my body was shaking uncontrollably. "Yes."_

" _Yes what?" He hit my ass again and this time, if at all possible, it felt even harder than before._

 _I bit back the hiccups, trying so hard to quell the shaking. "I'm not attractive, I'm ugly and gross. I'm sorry."_

 _He lowered his head to my ear and whispered, "Jillian?"_

 _My heart pounded right through my ribcage at the sound of my name in his mouth. He usually only refers to me exclusively as 'hey! or you!' I moaned, "Yes?"_

" _If you ever let anyone touch you again, I'll beat them until their brain is leaking through their ear canals. And then I'll fucking kill you. Got it? No one touches you."_

 _I nodded but said nothing and then coughed another scream when he slapped my bum again. "Yes, I understand!" I cried._

"' _You're mine."_

" _Yes…."_

" _What's that?" He asked as he squeezed the nape of my neck._

" _I belong to you. I'm your property." I confirmed shakily, breathlessly._

 _I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smile that curved through his features as he quietly said, "Good girl." He leaned down, pressing his mouth to my ear and whispered "It doesn't matter how far you go, or how long you're away. You'll always come back to me. You always do." I couldn't play down the shaking anymore, or the sobs that escaped the back of my throat._

 _He made me feel like garbage from the very first time he touched me, and since then he's done everything in his power to ostracize me from my own sanity. Why?_

 _It wasn't enough that he owned my body, he had to go and take my pride, my virtue, and my mind as well. He was truly a demon. I hated him so much. I really did. I wish I'd never met him. And sometimes…I hate to admit it and I'd never say it out loud and give him the smug satisfaction, but he made me wish I'd never even been born._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The hard, steaming rocks burned against the surface of my gloved fingers but I pushed on anyway. The wind howled behind me as encouragement even as the sweat poured from my skin in buckets. I pulled myself up the steep surface of the nearly flat plane one crevice at a time, constantly checking that my harness was still secured against my belt. The evening sun scorched the nape of my neck, my hair a messy bundle piled on top of my head and away from my face. Though some curly tendrils did stray to my goggled eyes and others stuck to my skin, I blew them away with ease and stayed focused.

 _Almost…_

The air was warm and when I inhaled it tickled my throat in the softest of ways, felt really nice. I had to squint my eyes when I looked up less I be blinded by the sun's rays. I could see my destination, practically touch it if I reached just a bit farther. Patience is what I told myself. I didn't decide to climb today of all days as hot as it is to just bulldoze through the experience completely. Savor the aching, straining, exhausting experience for all it's worth, Jillian.

I reached up to a bumpy, scratchy rock just beside where my hand rested, checking my footing before I pushed up to grab it. The climbing equipment at my waist jingled and twisted around from the action, demanding to be readjusted. Damn. Apparently being two hundred feet off the ground was the least of my worries.

The sound of my incessant clicking and buckling resounded through the wide canyon as I fixed the loosened belt. I prayed that the harness would hold as I did since it was attached to the pick that was lodged into the sedimentary rock, keeping me suspended. I rested my bare kneed against the rock cautiously. I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts for maximum flexibility and a peach colored tank top. Thinking back, I probably should have opted for the camo cargo's.

"For crying out loud," I muttered. The latch wouldn't stay hooked. This wasn't a huge problem, though. The harness attached around my midsection and came over my shoulders and nearly suffocated me from how tightly it stayed in place. The problem was that when it jiggled it annoyed the crap out of me. I was going to have to ignore it for now though because the top of the cliff was literally an arm's reach away. I clutched the wall again, reached for the ledge, and pulled myself over the precipice. Almost knocking the wind out of myself when my stomach hit the side, I finally managed to settle down at the edge and fell onto my back with my feet still dangling over the cliff.

"AHHHHHH!" I screamed, completely and utterly breathless, limbs sore and achy. My voice echoed about 10 times before finally disappearing into nothingness.

Soothing. But now someone in the far distance probably thinks some poor girl has died.

Why do I do this to myself?! It was only supposed to be a small hike up the mountain, but as soon as I saw the beckoning wall just above the canyon floor begging to be climbed I gave in like a harlot. She called to me and I humored her so easily. Effortless. That's what I get for bringing my climbing gear with the 'just for emergencies' excuse.

It feels like hours before I finally sit up again. When I do, I look down and see the miles of pine trees that stretch on for miles. The sun's still so high, painting the valley beneath a pinky orange hue. The valley sat at a plane and dipped into a lake at the bottom of the canyon, a lake so blue to the naked eye it was partially inconceivable. It shimmered beneath the soft, rolling sky and told stories that you would think impossible. I took a deep, soothing breath and slumped my backpack off to dig through it for my Canon. I didn't hesitate to snap several pictures of the magnificence that I was beholding before collapsing again for some well-deserved rest. For a while, I scrolled through the pictures I'd been taking all day, mostly of the wildlife.

My eyes fluttered shut after a beat and I waited, listening. To what? Well to the nothing, of course. So far away from the city where there's construction on nearly every block, cars with their horns and sirens, chattering, bustling. But now—nothingness. There was no greater emptiness that proffered this much fullness. There was no was only the sound of the wind blowing, the trees as they swayed against one another offering soft, leafy kisses, maybe the occasional hawk screeching from miles beyond. The sky beamed at you, made you want to be happy, be alive. If there's one thing I missed about Seattle that doesn't make me rethink, it's the landscape. There was nothing quite like it. Sure, California had great hiking spots, but this—this was unreal.

There really is no place like home I suppose.

I couldn't believe there was no rain today. Usually, even though it is sunny, the rain would have begun to fall by now. I even had a rain jacket stuffed in my bag for good measure. However, not a single cloud was to be seen for miles, even at this altitude. How endearing, albeit slightly disappointing. I actually enjoy hiking when there's a little sprinkle outside, but considering the fact that I'm still partially recovering from a terrible fever this may actually be a good thing.

Fever.

Flu.

Freezing river.

 _Theodore Grey._

My eyes flew open and I sat up, unhooking the harness from the latch that was still lodged into the cliff. I stood at the very edge, looking out into the vast forestry that didn't end, took a huge gulp of air with my legs spread wide to brace myself. I screamed, "I HATE YOU THEODORE GREYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

It echoed for the longest time and I, still recovering from that exhausting climb fell backwards onto my ass in a slump. Don't Jillian, don't you even think about crying. Not today. Today was an alone day, no family, no work, no _him_ , no worries. Hiking wasn't something I got to do often, but when I did my #1 rule was to keep a clear head. I had to! I was alone in the middle of nowhere with no phone reception. If something were to happen I needed to be quick on my toes to pile through it. Of course, nothing really has ever happened in all the years I've been hiking. I hike alone, too—no company…ever. People just ruin it for me, at least that's what I assume…never actually brought anyone.

Point is I shouldn't be thinking about him right now, but quite frankly he hasn't left my mind since the day I met him. He was averse to me in the beginning, avoided me like the plague. Then, one day, a day I remember too well that all changed.

 _I was on the cafeteria floor in front of him as he towered over me. There was food all over me, mine and possibly someone else's. Spaghetti, pizza, and some kind of squishy fruit was sprawled all over the pretty pink skirt my mom bought for me the day before. Constant laughter resounded through the great room lined with hundreds of tables, people surrounded me and pointed, whispering. My skin burned with embarrassment._

 _I didn't do it on purpose—I didn't even see him until it was too late. When I turned around he was just there, beside the lunch line. Granted he appeared to be minding his own business with his back turned._

 _I hadn't even noticed the trashcan behind me and stepped back in a panic, my lunch tray in hand. It all happened so fast…something slippery on the floor, me sliding into him while trying to brace myself, and then falling flat on my ass and bruising my bottom in the process. Theodore's brows pulled in, his mouth pressed into a hard, firm line. Even at the age of 13 he had one hell of a temper, unmatched by even my tightwad of a father._

 _I expected him to crack a smile at me and laugh like everyone else did, but as I looked up at him with wide, panic filled eyes his mouth began to pull into a frown. Then, my skin ran cold when I saw him mouth, "Garbage." With disgust etched across his face, looking directly at me._

 _That was the very first word that Theodore Grey ever said to me._

' _Garbage'_

 _I looked down and could see the tears begin to cloud my I saw his feet disappear as he walked through the cafeteria doors. There were warm hands at my arm, pulling at it. When I looked up again Penny's big brown eyes stared down at me with worry. She picked at my hair, pulling strands of pasta out one by one. "Are you okay, Ziggy?" She asked, her voice cracking as she did. "Get up!"_

 _Penny looked around at the lot that had mobbed around me for a good show and yelled, "GO AWAY!" Then, she flipped them all off. "Let's get you cleaned up." I wiped my snotty nose, still pushing back the tears. Everything hurt—mostly my heart._

 _It was an accident…Why did he call me that?_

I shook my head of the horrible memory. Reaching one hand up to grab the sky as I lie on my back. Wax Fang's song Majestic immediately began to play in my head.

"In such disbelief I thought I was asleep when I met you…" I took a deep breath, wishing my voice was as smooth as Scott's but instead cringing at the scratchiness to it. "I'd rather be dreaming of someone than living alone…" My voice was soft and distant, but not because of the echo—it was because of the strife.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be home with my family in our time of need and the fact that I get to continue doing what I love at the same time is basically a miracle but…I wish it were a more peaceful affair. However, I know very well that if I want peace, I have to find it myself. That's what my mom always says.

I miss her.

xxx

When I got home that night after my hike, there were so many cars parked in front of our driveway. So many that I couldn't even pull into the garage. I had to park at the end of the street and walk to the house.

There was screaming and calls for more shots raining through the hallways of my childhood home. I threw my keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door—something I usually don't do or else I'll forget them there—but I needed to investigate the disturbance. My father's house was enormous. He designed it himself…he's an architect, you see. Everything in this home had a place, every nook and cranny a story of our family, a purpose. If I hadn't lived here my whole life I'd get lost in this mansion, but I knew it inside out just like all of his children. So I navigated my way through the house and to the backyard with ease.

As I approached, my eyes widened. Hundreds of young hopefuls were packed into the yard, dancing and yelling, the rounded pool was stuffed with people I did not recognize. Kegs lined the perimeter around the fences. Music blared loudly, people sung, others drank and sat and talked in groups. I pulled open the plate glass sliding doors that led to the patio with no intention of kind words, scanned the buzzing area in search of an answer.

What the actual heck? A party? At _my_ parent's house?

And then my suspicions were confirmed when I spotted my idiot baby brother. He was huddled up on the diving board at the back of the huge space, people were chanting his name. I couldn't make it out exactly, but if I knew anything about him he was planning to do something stupid.

"Lance…" I growled, keeping my focus trained on him alone, negating every other strange face as I stormed through down the stone pathway that led to the pool. I was furious. These people were _ruining_ my parent's backyard. Do they have any idea how hard my mother worked on making this area beautiful? Now it looks like a frat house.

Lance's knees buckled and he began rounding the springboard beneath his feet. He was saying something, couldn't make out what it was just yet but his words slurred so I deduced that he was wasted. He began to count and the onlookers joined in messily,

"One! Two! Thr—"

"LANCE!" I screeched, locking my hand onto his shoulder and yanking his wobbly body off the diving board right before he could slide in and mess up his leg. "You moron! What are you doing?!"

Lance looked down at me even though he was slumped over because he was at least a head taller than me. "Zigg…y?" He said, his voice scratchy, distant and playful. He shoved the beer bottle in his hand at me. "Hold my beer," He burped. He was soaking wet and in a pair of striped blue and white swim trunks.

"What are all of these people doing here? Are you insane?"

"Dad said it was fine!" He said lazily, a huge smile on his inebriated face.

 _Liar_.

"I don't care what dad said! You're 20 Lance, not 16. Grow the hell up already." I turned around, ready to break this party up.

"Amigo!" Lance yelled over my shoulder and then bumped into me, causing me to face to chest with a big bulk of a man.

I pushed away quickly and looked up. "Excuse me." I apologized

He grinned down at me salaciously, his eyes cloudy from I'm guessing the excess intake of alcoholic beverages floating around. Perfect. "You Lance's little sister?"

I felt my left eye twitch. "I'm his older sister," I said through clenched teeth.

That shocked him for some reason. "But you're so tiny!" He bellowed, holding a hand over my head. Admittedly, I did have a fairly small build but I was 5'7 and decently filled out in the chest and butt area. How could he possibly think I was younger than Lance?

"Wanna dance with me?" The stranger asked.

 _Uh, no._

"Pass." I said swiftly, turning back to scold my brother but he'd already disappeared.

"I'm Lance's friend."

"So sorry to hear that." The guy laughed and it made me roll my eyes.

"I like your glasses. You're like a sexy teacher." Wow, ew. I tightened my hands around the straps of my backpack, attempting to curl up into a ball physically. I didn't need my glasses for anything besides reading and sometimes when I did lab work to help me see through the microscope but today I wore them out of the house by accident and just decided to leave them on.

"So how about that dance?" He pressed.

I held up a hand, encouraging him to stop speaking to me but he didn't take the hint and kept talking. I didn't listen. I scanned the yard for Lance, still fuming. I'm sure the evidence of my anger was evident when I turned around to look at the guy still running his mouth at me. His mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened. "What the hell is your problem? I was just trying to talk to you."

"And I was just trying to ignore you." I said matter-of-factly and continued my search, weaving my way through the drunken masses. There was a shattering sound somewhere on my right and I turned to see one of the stone hedges that lined the pool lying across the deck in a million pieces.

"Ahhh!" I squealed, running over to it. My father is going to kill me. Not Lance… _me_. I'm the oldest at home now and by default I'm in charge of keeping him in check. It used to be Blane's responsibility, then it was Jane's. They passed the torch to me years ago with pitiful expressions on their faces. Yet another reason as to why I moved away. I couldn't deal with his psychoticism.

I heard Lance's voice off in the distance, announcing something that I didn't catch. The music was too loud.

"Lance!" He was standing on top of the ping-pong table with a red cup in one hand and a microphone in the other.

"ARE YOU READY?!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. I noticed then that the music had ceased. The audience reciprocated, screaming their approval. I was so angry I didn't know what to do. "I SAID! ARE YOU READYYYYYYYYYYYY?!"

"Lance!"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I PRESENT TO YOU! THE BELLVUE SPIES!" He pointed off to his right. There was a band on a small stage set up beside him. They immediately began playing after Lance's introduction. Music 10x louder than the music playing before. Everyone yelled and jumped and cheered. My hands immediately flew up to my ears and I squeezed my eyes shut. They were so loud! We have neighbors for crying out loud!

The band played a song I was unfamiliar with but everyone else in the crowd sung along as if they knew every word. I looked back and saw that Lance was jumping up and down on the ping-pong tabled lined with red cups filled with beer.

 _I'm going to kill him._ Spoiled trust fund no good rotten brat!

Screw it. I was going to be in trouble with my father no matter what, and I wasn't going to break up the party on my own anyway. I went back to the patio and pushed the glass door open again, closed it behind me. When the loud music turned into a muffled hum I sighed in relief. I climbed the stairs to my room and closed to door, sliding down to the floor against it. I needed to move out of this house. I could get an apartment close to home. This is too much. Is this seriously my life right now?

xxx

"What the hell is your problem?!" I screeched at my hungover brother. He was hunched into the couch in our living room with a protein smoothie in his hand. He massaged his temples, clearly fighting a headache. It was the morning after, the backyard was a mess, and my irresponsible brother _looked_ a mess. It was almost 12 in the evening and he looked as if he hadn't moved from this spot. Only came home on lunch to check on him, yep—still a loser. He'd missed all his morning classes for sure, but maybe he could still make the evening ones.

"Care to elucidate?" He said quietly, then took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off of the television playing a football game on mute.

"You threw a party? At a house you don't pay bills in? On a Thursday? Have you completely went off the deep end?!"

"So what? Dad's been at the hospital all week. He won't know." He grumbled.

" _I_ know Lance," I said, pointing at my chest.

"You gonna tattle on me?" He mocked, looking back at me briefly before rolling his bright green orbs.

"You're going to clean up that back yard. Everything that's dirty or broken."

"I called someone, they're coming this evening." He said dismissively.

"You need to get off the couch. You have classes today."

He laughed at that. "You think I'm going to school today? Fuck off." He grumbled.

My eyes widened and I lunged at him. "What did you just say to me you little—" He bolted around the other side of the couch. "I'm going to strangle you! Strangle you like dad will strangle me when he finds out how you've ruined his house!"

"I'm shaking…" His eye were wide and void of emotion.

"How could you be partying when our mother is fighting for her life right now?"

Lance sat back down right in front of me and kicked his feet up. "We all grieve in our own ways Jillian."

I pushed the back of his head and he made a yelping sound, holding it tightly with one hand. "You're so full of shit." I seethed and then walked away. I wasn't in the mood to deal with him and his issues right now. I had to get back to work.

xxx

I've always hated Fridays. I just wanted to be at school, at work, doing my job all the time. Sad right? I left the school having completed mostly everything, took a deep breath and stretched my arms over my head. The plan wasgoing to the hospital to visit my mom. Been on the phone with Jane and my aunt almost every single day demanding status updates. Her levels were normal and all but I still needed to see her, needed to tell her all about this week.

I clicked the alarm for my redPorsche Cayenne and heard it tweet as I hurried through the parking lot. As soon as I pulled the driver's door open a hand appeared over my shoulder and pushed it closed again so quickly it made me jump. I turned my headso fast and nearly got whiplash, prepared to give whoever my potential assaulter was a huge scream and a lot of kicking. However my face immediately fell when I set eyes on the large, looming figure behind me.

My entire body tensed up, keys and bag fell out of my hand, mouth hung open, breathing quickened. What the hell is he doing here? How did he even know that _I_ was here? "Wha—"

Theodore brought a finger to my mouth. "Shhh…" He hushed and then brought his face down close to mine, his hands on either side of me resting against the roof of my car. "Found you." He saidsoftly and a lopsided, playful smile pulled across his face.

 _Holy craaaaaap._

I had to look down. What the _fuck_ is wrong with me? Why does my heart always betray me every single time I see him? Skipping like a flat rock across a pond. I can't stress enough how intense and unsettling it was to look him directly in the eyes. I don't know if it's because of how badly he treats me or how good I _wish_ he'd treat me.

He smelled so good too. Minty and rugged, maybe a forest-pine body wash—no cologne, I could tell, just all-natural man. His turquoise polo was tucked into his dark blue jeans and he was wearing a pair of white, immaculate Vans. He looked as if he just got off the golf course.

"Hey," He said, leaning down so that he was eye-level with me. "Where are you headed?"

My brows scrunched together. I was sure that Theodore knew exactly where I was going. He had to know that my mother was sick from his parents, and he had to know what hospital she was admitted to. I go to the hospital after school almost every day without fail. He _had_ to know that. "T-to the hospital." I replied, sounding like a mouse.

"Right." He breathed and I flinched when he reached into his back pocket. He pulled out my cellphone and grabbed my hand, placing it there and curling my fingers around it manually. I haven't seen this thing in almost a week. Not the phone, him…and the phone. "You can do that, but afterwards I want you at this address."

I looked at my hand and noticed an address scribbled in sharpie marker across the back of my cell. I cringed as I stared at it, sharpies are not washable—how was I supposed to get this off?

"What's going on?" I asked softly and then found the nerve to look up at him. I'd hesitantly let go of my suspicions with the funding of my research mishap, let it go big time. I was keeping to myself, hadn't said a word or heard a peep from him in days.

"Nothing at the moment. Later, though? I have quite a few things in mind." He grumbled, then scratched the scruff on his jaw as if in deep thought. I watched him in awe and he stared down at me as I did, a bored expression on his features. No longer was this the boy I'd known half of my life. This…this was a _man._ So, _so_ sexy. He was less hot-headed and it showed, though he was still undeniably hate-fueled and filled with rage…for me. "Why are you staring at me?" He asked dryly. Seriously?

"It's hard not to when you're 2 inches in front of my face." I muttered sarcastically and his pupils visibly dilated, his face scrunching into an amused one. Almost immediately after saying that, I regretted it.

His eyes flicked down to my skirt and then back to my eyes. Without warning, he reached down and slid his hand up my outer thigh until his finger was at the hem of my panties. "Oh god." I cried out, looked around the mostly empty parking lot. "Please, not here." I begged. Why in the rarest times that I wear a skirt did I have to run into him? It wasn't the cutest skirt in the world, it was tan, plaid, plain and as Penny would add at the end 'ugly' but it was comfy so I didn't really care.

He gave me a funny look, held my terrified gaze in his. Then, out of the nowhere I heard a very distinct ripping sound and gasped loudly as my underwear were torn from my body in one swift motion.

What the heck?!

"Panty ripping?" I scoffed, trying hard to keep the amusement accompanied by sheer humiliation and panic from my tone. "How cliché."

He tilted his head a bit, a very annoyed expression painting his magazine cover-worthy face. "Cliché, huh?" He murmured.

I looked behind me, making sure no one was coming. If someone saw me standing here like this with a man holding my ripped underwear in his hands I would lose my job on the spot. When I turned back around to him my eyes widened into dinner plates as something was stuffed into my mouth.

He forced my black panties so far into my mouth I began to fear I would swallow the fabric. I brought my hands up, grabbed one of his arms and yanked, began banging on his chest to push him away but he wasn't budging. "Cliché…huh?" He repeated again, his tone so dark that it made me shudder. He grabbed my hands and slammed them on either side of me against the car door.

I struggled against him, screaming but the gag was preventing any sound from escaping. I choked on the fabric and my eyes watered as I coughed, attempting to breathe. He held me in place and watched me struggle with an empty look. I blinked a few times as I tried to calm my breathing. Finally, I was calm enough that I could breathe through my nose, slowly and steadily.

"Good girl." He whispered softly then ran the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of mine. I closed my eyes and sighed. "Turn around."

He let go of my wrists and slowly, I did as he reached around and grabbed the door handle, grabbed my waist and pulled me against him as he opened it all the , he pushed my back and bent me over the car seat. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard him shuffle behind me. Theodore grabbed both of my hands and brought them behind my back and I felt him wrap something leathery around my wrists, binding them together tightly. It was super uncomfortable and a little painful, but not as much as I knew it could be.

He bunched my skirt up over my hips and I prepared myself for the incoming spank but it was taking much too long to arrive.

Suddenly, there was a cold sensation against the opening of my sex and I felt something press deep inside of me. I let out a low and stifled moan through the fabric at the heavy metallic feeling that my walls enveloped and clenched around.

I was still too scared to turn around, but fought against that fear and stole a look over my shoulder. He had one foot hitched onto the edge of the car, just beside the driver's seat to balance himself as he hovered over me. My eyes widened when he pulled a small needle out of his back pocket, bit the protective plastic cap off with his teeth, and then flicked it with his middle finger before testing that it works with a small squirt.

Oh my _fucking_ God…? What the hell is that?

My eyes began to water but the fight had left me completely, I didn't even have the nerve to try and squirm away. I pushed my face into the beige leather seat, allowing my hair to fall over the side and down to the floor.

What I felt was the tiniest of pricks at my thigh. A squeal escaped the back of my throat, muffled by the panties still lodged in my mouth. It was very quick, and it didn't hurt that badly but I was still sobbing like a fucking toddler.

His hand slid across my bare ass and his thumb lingered a bit too long on my 'no-go' zone. "If anything…I do regret never having this…" He whispered, voice husky.

HOLY FUCK!

He spread my cheeks and his thumb pressed, none too subtly against the opening of my asshole, stroking it gently. What the hell!? Noooooooo.

"But I will though. I'll have everything." Uh…nope. Nope nopenopeity no. Nothing was going inside of that place ever! I wanted to tell him that but I couldn't, instead I threw a very disapproving look back at him.

"What? Speak up." He growled as he grinded his groin against my ass forcefully.I could feel the outline of his… _ahem_ …through the jeans and he was definitely rock hard. His mouth pulled into a sly grin. "You don't want my cock in your ass? Is that it?" I shook my head and turned back around, pressed my face back into the seat. I wasn't going to humor him. That's what he wanted, was for me to panic and cry.

"Do you honestly think that there is any part of you that I can't have?" He asked, his voice marking a hint of disbelief.

Theodore pushed up my sweater and the shirts underneath it until my back was fully traced a line up my spine carefully, exploring. The act made me shudder in the best and worst of ways, breathing heavily against his touch.

I don't know what compelled me, but I glanced back again, but only for a second. He was…how do I explain his face? He was looking at me as if he'd never seen my body before, even though he probably knew it better than I did. His face was filled with a foreign guise of wonder as he looked me over. It confused the crap out of me. I saw him mouth something, but didn't actually hear any sound escape his mouth. He swallowed, then his eyes darted up from my back and locked with mine. I looked away quickly.

Finally, he rose off of me, undid the binding from my wrists, pushed my skirt down and lifted me up so that my back was still to his front. "Don't take it out." He murmured and pressed a soft kiss behind my ear. I shuddered at the feel of his warm breath against my neck.

"Huawhwuhuu hi hi?!" I struggled and then choked from the pressure.

He wrapped my hair around his fist and yanked my head back forcefully, growled in my ear "It's in there for a reason. Shut the fuck up. Your mouth is what gets you in trouble the most. Address. And make sure you're fast, by the way. You have about an hour until it kicks in."

 _UNTIL WHAT KICKS IN?! WHAT DID YOU JUST INJECT ME WITH?!_

"Try not to make me wait." He chuckled low, and then pushed me back into the car-seat face first. When I sat up he'd disappeared. I reached my fingers into my mouth and grabbed the cotton fabric by whatever stray end I could get a grip on and pulled. The fabric exited my mouth the same way that never-ending colorful magician's handkerchief trick did, taking forever to finally come all the way out. As soon as it did I coughed hard. I wiped the drool from my mouth as well as the tears.

I crouched down and gathered all of my things, flinging them into the car. My legs were tired and felt like goo but I didn't have time to think about it. I didn't _want_ to think about it. I just wanted to see my mom, that's all.

xxx

"Are you still sick?" Blane asked as he made a b-line for me and held my shoulders in his hands. I looked over his shoulder to the hospital bed where mom still lie lifelessly. My heart sank…when is she going to wake up? I needed to see her, needed her to see me.

I smiled and pressed a gentle pat to his cheek. "No Blane I'm fine. Oh, you know Lance threw a party yesterday night." I muttered.

Blane made a pained face. "I'm sorry about that munchkin. Don't stress it, I'll take care of him."

I looked around. "Where's dad?"

"He stepped out for a minute." He checked his watch. "Speaking of which, I've got to go too. Call me if you need anything." Then he was gone.

I sat down in one of the seats beside my mom, leaned down and whispered to her everything I was thinking, told her about my week. It feels like ages pass before Jane enters the room with a cup of coffee and a bagel in her hand. She has her work clothes on and a huge Louis Vuitton bag on her forearm.

When she saw me she smiled widely. "Hey Ziggy. Feeling better? Oh—" She stopped mid-sentence a few feet away, taking in my appearance. "Your hair looks freaking amazing. I don't think it's ever looked so good." She lilted.

I finally managed to get that haircut this morning before work…my first haircut in weeks. It was my sister's beautician, she recommended me vehemently. I only asked for a quick cut but the cartoonish guy insisted on this weird 'Brazilian blowout' thing. I didn't know what the hell it was but as soon as he was finished my hair looked like something from a shampoo ad. It felt so smooth, clean, and was shiny (not oily) for the first time in forever. Fell down my back in loose, soft waves. I've been running my hands through it all day, it feels so nice.

When Jane got closer she took in my appearance entirely. "Ziggs…your dress."

I looked down to see what exactly she meant. I had went home briefly to change since I had no underwear and my skirt was rumpled to hell. Unfortunately, Yvette was still doing mylaundry. The only clean clothes I had were the ones that my sister had stuffed in my closet a few years ago. Those clothes include this black, tight bodycon dress that I was wearing now. It was the least convoluted and provocative article of clothing in my closet and was pretty comfortable minus the spaghetti straps, but I fixed that with my long black overcoat.

"Is that the dress I bought you 4 years ago that you never even touched? Stand up!" She said, not giving me a chance to respond.

I rolled my eyes and stood, doing a small turn for her. "Your ass looks incredible!"

"For Christ sakes." I grumbled and sat back down, pointed at her hand. "Did you bring me one?"

She looked at her coffee-bagel hand and then back at me sympathetically. "No…but you can have one or the other." She came over to me and held her hand out, motioning me to take something.

I held up my hand, "It's fine, Jane."

She shrugged and then took a bite of her bagel, setting her bag down by the chair opposite me and having a seat. She pulled the chair up closer to the bed and ate quietly as she looked down at our mother. "Do you think she can hear us?" She said suddenly.

"I hope not," I chuckled and she gave me a curious look.

"I've been telling her a lot of…things…that I'd rather she not remember."

"Like?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't ask, Jane. If I don't want mom to know what makes you think I want your prying ass to know?"

She pointed at me, a small smile on her lips. "Touché."

"How's the firm?" I asked and she let out a huge sigh.

"It's absolute shit, in shambles, trying my nerves, terrible, stressful."

I raised a curios brow. "Jane, it's… _your_ law firm."

She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes catching mine with indifference. "Answer's still the same."

"Is it…an employee?" I asked curiously.

"No it's just," She held a hand up and began making exaggerated gestures with it. "The fact that my livelihood centers around being a lying, blood sucking twat. Seeing mom like this, it's only just confirmed how draining my job is."

I'd always thought that Jane's profession fit her quite well. She wasn't the most loving of people but she also wasn't the coldest. In terms of personality she was the perfect mix between mom and dad. She never really had much bias for one client to the other. But come on, she knew what being a lawyer meant from day one, right? Why fight it now?

I shifted a bit in my chair and immediately regretted it. I'd been trying my best to sit as still as possible because there was something hard and heavy rolling around inside of me. Every single time I shifted I felt something move and twist. It was driving me crazy. I had to cough to drown out the moan. My palms were slowly clamming up from the sensation. I crossed my legs and squeezed them tightly.

"You okay?" Jane asked, possibly catching on to how bizarrely I was behaving.

I flashed her what I hoped was an assuring smile. "Never better."

She shrugged her shoulder, "Anyway, I am thinking that perhaps I should close the firm for a while, but I have no idea how I'll be able to convince dad it's a good idea." Her voice was sad.

"Hey," I reached out and grabbed her hand in mine. "It's fine. I love you no matter what you decide, okay?"

Jane blinked a few times, her jaw hanging open. She narrowed her eyes at me, leaning forward slightly. "Ziggy…What is wrong with you?" She breathed.

I felt my face screw up a bit. "What do you mean?"

She set her cup of coffee down and stood. "Are you on some kind of psychedelic?" She asked, her voice strained.

I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked up at her like she was insane. "What?! I don't do drugs, Jane…you know that."

"Don't even try it," She seethed and then quickly moved around the bed so she was beside me. She took my face in her hands and forced me to look at her. "You're speaking unusually candid, you're constantly rubbing your hands together and squirming, and more importantly," She pulled a compact out of her pocket and shoved the tiny mirror at me. "Your pupils are 2/3 the width of your iris!"

I looked at my eyes and blanched at the sight of a black hole through the center of my bluish-green orbs. "Holy shit!" I squealed and then dropped the mirror. I stood abruptly and pushed pass her, ignoring her plea for me to wait. I ran to the bathroom at the end of the hall and turned on one of the sinks. My reflection in the mirror almost made me fall backwards. Face flushed bright red, pupils dilated, skin practically glowing. I splashed some water on my face and exhaled deeply. It felt as if there was excess oxygen inside of my lungs. I wanted it out. I exhaled again and again but there was too much air in my body, it felt as if I were going to explode.

I moaned out in desperation before dropping into a crouch, my hands still planted firmly on the sink. I flexed my arms, leaned forward, pushed back, groaned over and over again. I couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything. My mind was so hazy, my nipples hard as rocks, pressed against my plaid cotton blouse. Every time I exhaled they would drag against the fabric and make my skin break out in goosebumps.

I felt… _everything_. I could literally feel the dust mites floating through the air delicately land on my skin. I felt the air conditioning from the vents push my hair gently. I bit back the urge to screech, every sensation hit me at once like a wrecking ball. "Ahhhhh…" I seethed in a low tone and stood up.

Then, this uncontrollable urge for someone…thing…anything to touch me _there_ began to bang so hard at my subconscious it made my ears ring. My belly flipped over and over again, my walls convulsing around the thing lodged inside tightly.I squeezed the sink in my hands, trying to calm my body, trying to keep my hands away from my most sensitive area. I wanted to take whatever was in my vagina out so much but I was too scared to reach my hand down there.

An aphrodisiac. He injected me with a _fucking_ love drug. What a psycho. I willed my head to clear, tried so hard to breathe but it was maddening. I had to get the hell out of here before someone saw me like this.

This was the most intense feeling I've ever experienced in my life. There was an undying need and pressure constantly pushing at my pelvis, screaming to be tended to. I wanted to…I had to touch myself. I haven't pleasured myself since I was 20 years old. The desire died ages ago, but I had to do something to stop it. I was throbbing down there, my skin was on fire, I was breathing heavily.

I managed to discreetly slide out of the hospital without being stopped but I could feel judgmental eyes lingering on me, hundreds of shiny orbs staring me down with frowns on their menacing faces. Everyone was watching me and I knew it. They were thinking 'that gross slut'. Oh god…I'm such a gross slut. I held my face in my hands and hurried to my car in the parking lot sea. The alarm chirped and I slid into the seat.

Fuck.

I left my purse in the hospital room. All of my money was in there. I had to get back in there and…

Don't. Do not go back in there like this. Just go home.

I glanced over at the passenger seat and saw my phone sitting on the floor. I reached over the gear shift, cringing as it dug into my stomach and plucked it up. The battery was dead, completely dead. I pulled the charger out of the glove compartment and plugged it into the car, watched as it slowly buzzed to life. Turned it around, saw an address scribbled on the back… _the…fucking—_

I forgot. I completely forgot. Glanced at my wristwatch, it had already been an hour and a half. He was going to _kill_ me. I didn't want to go to him. I wanted to go home. I hated him. What has he done to me? I've never been so wired in my whole life.

There was a clink on my widow and I squealed, turning to face a very stoic looking guy in a dark suit with a buzz cut, looking like an ex-military. I blinked at him, mouth wide. He motioned for me to roll down my window but I shook my head.

"Master Grey has sent me for you, miss." _WELL HAS HE NOW?!_

"Go away!" I screamed, the drugs we remaking me extra brazen and even a little bit angry. I also felt like I was ass naked even though every time I looked down, I was clearly clothed.

He sighed, "If you'll just come with me…"

"C-c-c-come…with you?" I scoffed, my eyes still wide as dinner plates. "If I won't see him voluntarily what makes you think I'll let you escort me there?"

He rolled his eyes and I gasped when he reached out and pulled the car door open. I didn't lock it?

"Master Grey has specifically ordered me to not return to him without you, Miss Pierce."

"Well you can just tell 'Master Grey' that I said _SUCK IT_." I reached out to pull the door closed but he held it.

I caught his eyes with mine, his face was passive. "Are you absolutely positive that you want me to tell him you said that ma'am?"

I gave him a funny look. Does this guy actually think that I'm scared of him? I've been abused and tormented by one person ever since I was 12 years old and that is the _only_ person who has the capacity to scare the living shit out of me."I don't care what you tell him."

I slammed my car door shut, making sure that I locked it this time. The meaty super-agent creep knocked on my window again. I started up my car and refused to look at him. I pulled my car into reverse, glancing behind me for clearance.

"He said 20 minutes…that was 10 minutes ago." I scowled in his direction. "You have 10 minutes." He said and I watched idly as he backed away from my car.

I stopped then, resting my head on the steering wheel. I didn't know what the hell it is about me that Theodore despised so much. If I knew, I would abrogate it completely. I hated the fact that he hated me more than I actually hated him. I don't want to hate anybody, I don't want to hurt anybody, and I don't enjoy being hurt over and over again.

I wiped my eyes with the palm of my hand. Why am I such a crybaby? All I do is cry and then cry some more. If I really wanted this all to stop I would make it stop, and no amount of death threats and kicks to the gut would recede this. I just needed the courage, and I didn't know where to find that.

Constantly running away isn't helping, confronting the issue gets me kicked in a lake when it's below zero outside, and doing nothing at all gets a syringe in my ass. I was so much smarter than this. He's done so, so much worse to me but I never cracked…not even once. What has changed inside of me between then and now?

I turned off the ignition and stepped out on shaky legs in my scruffy old all black converse sneakers. "Let's just get this over with." I sighed.

He escorted me to a black SUV with windows tinted so dark I couldn't see through even when I got close and cupped my hands. He opened the back door for me and I slipped into the seat. When he got in and started the car I asked "You wouldn't happen to know where we're going, would you…uh?"

"Parker. And you'll see when we get there." He said, starting the car and pulling out onto the road.

I took a deep breath and pressed my hands to my face. I had work tomorrow, I couldn't be out all night. My arms snaked around my body and I squeezed myself, I was so…freaking…horny. I don't think I've ever been this turned on before. I bobbed my leg up and down, trying to calm the heat radiating from below my abdomen. No good, only made it worse. I tried to fan myself, squeezed my eyes shut, bit down on my lip.

 _Breathe, Jillian._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The car finally pulled to a stop and Parker came around to my side, pulled open the door so I could get out. It was fairly dark outside now, the sun was beginning to set. I stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk and he closed the door behind me. This dress…was _tight_. Possibly the tightest thing I've ever worn, and shortest, stopping at the middle of my upper thighs. Why did I wear this thing again? Am I losing my mind?

 _The drugs, Jillian. The drugs…_

"Where is this?" I muttered as I looked ahead. It appeared to be some kind of club tucked into a corner on this buzzing street. I stared at a big red door and finally noticed the mile long line of people standing behind the red velvet ropes, waiting to get in.

"Trek. Nightclub on 2nd and Pine." He explained and then motioned for me to go ahead of him. A nightclub? Only ever been to a club once before, hated it. I don't like alcohol and I don't like being in large crowds, put those two things together and you have a nightclub…Or Coachella, which Penny drug me to one summer when we were teenagers. Also hated that…loved the live performances though.

I nervously approached the huge bouncer standing in front of the door, tucked my hands into my coat pockets. There was muffled dubstep music bellowing from behind the huge metal door, begging to be let out.

"Name?" The big bald guy asked as he looked down at me.

My eyes quickly darted over to Parker's but he just used his chin to motion me on. I don't know if he chose not to say anything because he'd rather I speak for myself, or if he just plain didn't know my first name. "Jillian Pierce…" I said softly.

He immediately pushed the door open to let Parker and me in. I took a deep, nervous breath and stepped through. The music hit me immediately, drifted into my ears and punched my eardrums over and over again. It was still fairly bright outside, but I was greeted now with a darkness so heavy that my eyes had to actively readjust. As we moved father back lights began to dance above my head and the music was in full blast, shook my bones, rocked my core.

Two bars span the length of the room, facing each other; countertops made of black granite and tempered glass, shiny and spotlessly clean. They are framed by illuminated shelves made of glass, sustaining millions of bottles of alcohol. The walls were black and backlit with brightly colored splattered neon paint. Floor was wooden and scuffed but it was a charming type of scuff, seemed intentional and looked fancy.

A mass of sweaty bodies convulsed around me, dancing recklessly in beat to the music. Parker moved people out of the way, shielding my body from being tossed around as he guided me through the crowd. I covered my ears with my hands in an attempt to save my poor eardrums.

We finally approached another door at the very back of the room, up the black, stainless steel spiral staircase on the second floor. The door was purple and closed and said VIP in big black letters on the front. Parker knocked on the door once and not a second later it pulled open. Parker motioned me forward and then all eyes in the small space fell on me.

The only eyes I noticed were his, though.

Theodore sat lazily across from me on one of the long plush gray sofas, his ankle was resting on his other knee, arms stretched behind two stunning leggy blondes. My mouth hung open as I stared at him because he looked freaking incredible in his all-black attire. Tight black long-sleeved Henley, black trousers with cuffs rolled up just above his ankles, and black leather Chelsea boots.

Theodore raised one of his arms from behind the blonde who was nipping at his jaw and brought a tumbler filled with amber liquid to his mouth, downing the remainder of it in one drag. His eyes stayed glued to me the entire time he did and I couldn't help but notice the way that they slowly drug down the length of my body, all the way to my toes and back up again.

"Well if it isn't Piggy Ziggy." A voice called out amusingly. I didn't recognize it, nor did I turn to acknowledge it. 'Piggy' was the shitty, unwanted nickname bestowed upon me somewhere between my freshman and sophomore year of high school. I don't know who started it, but it stuck until I graduated, mostly with the cronies that mobbed around Theodore, especially the females who were obsessed with him and despised me.

Someone appeared at my side and I finally tore my eyes from his, coming into contact with a very tall, thin woman with an empty cocktail glass between her fingers.

"Hellooo?" She sang, waving her hands in front of my face. I resisted the urge to crown her with the bottom of my sharp heels. She looked damn familiar, but I couldn't dig up a name. "Damn, I barely even recognized you. You look so…not like a grandma on heroin." She giggled. Her eyes were cold and I could tell that she was not happy to see me.

I narrowed my eyes at her but chose to not respond to that. I didn't have the nerve to, I was rather timid when it came to any kind of confrontation.

"Remember me?" She asked sweetly, batted her fake eyelashes at me.

"No." I replied quietly and looked away. Theodore had a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he continued to burn holes through me

"Rude," The girl beside me said with a twinge of hurt in her voice. She looked over to where Theodore sat and then pointed at me with a huge smile on her face. "Look Theo, it's Piggy."

"Get the fuck out Charlotte." He said quietly and her eyes widened into dinner plates, as did mine. I looked back and forth between the two of them with a disbelieving look on my face. Suddenly it all came back to me; Charlotte Egbert: captain of the cheer team, honor society, future business leaders of America, Girl Scouts—the pride of East High.

If Theodore was the King of our school (and he was), she was most definitely the Queen. She changed so much since I last saw her. She'd dyed her hair black, her blue eyes were sunken in and her skin looked worse than mine did two weeks ago. She looked like she got wasted every single night and I mean… _wasted_.

Her bright red lips twisted into a frown, "What the hell, dude?"

"Get _. the fuck_ …out." He annunciated, one of his brows lifted out of irritation. She stomped one of her feet down but didn't protest, slammed the door behind her.

The dimly lit room was filled with unfamiliar faces, most of them staring at me now with baffled expressions. I assumed they recognized me…or didn't and were instead wondering how a pasty nobody like me got into the VIP room. There were 4 couches against the darkly painted walls, tucked into each other. All were filled with people chatting and drinking across from one another. In front of the couches were small acrylic foot tables and matching ottomans with several drinks on them. The floor was a fluffy purple carpet with specs of gold dust between the fibers. The space was small and private. Oh boy.

Theodore caught my attention again when he leaned over and whispered to the girls on either side of him, a second later they sat up with disappointed looks on their pouty faces. They both stood from the couch and walked away with their shoulders slumped. His eyes slowly settled on me again and then briefly drifted to the empty space beside him.

I cautiously sat down a couple of inches away on the same couch, staring straight ahead to the wide plasma flat-screen television on the opposite wall playing some music award show. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down the seat to him effortlessly, nudging me into his side.

 _Don't look at him, don't look at him._

"You're late." He whispered in my ear and then slowly ran a finger down my torso beneath the coat. His fingers came to the back of my neck and he squeezed my nape beneath his palm, really tightly. I was seeing stars at the shooting pain and winced, my mouth falling open to catch my breath. It really hurt. "Why are you late?"

He used his other hand to grab my face, forced me to look at him.

I shuddered when my eyes connected with his. "Ahhhhhh…Sorry," I moaned in a hushed lull. He narrowed one eye, a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. I licked my lips to moisten them and tasted my cherry lip gloss, but not without noticing the way his eyes widened slightly as I did.

"You apologize _a lot_. Wouldn't it just be easier to do as I say?" He chuckled, his grip tightening on the back of my neck.

"When you hate someone as much as I hate you, decisions become tricky." I seethed, feeling uncharacteristically brave all of a sudden.

His face split into a breathtaking smile at that comment. Holy—! My already sopping core convulsed with need. I needed his hands on every inch of me right now.

"You hate me, do you?" He asked playfully. I inhaled sharply as his hand began to slowly slide up my inner thigh and rested just at the hem of my dress. "I'd like to hear all about that."

"Is this drug going to kill me?" I asked suddenly.

His brows turned down and rested into a deep line at the top of his forehead. "It's just a little bremelanotide with some ketamine mixed in…don't be so dramatic."

 _Ketamine_?! _The same shit they use on farms to make horses breed?!_

PSYCHOTIC.

"I don't care what it is. You had no right." I breathed out, choked back the tears. Theodore has done some pretty fucked up shit to me, but he's never drugged me before. This was new and it was scary as hell. I was beginning to fear that it would only get more heinous from here.

"I have the right to do whatever I want to you. You're mine. I _own_ you."

It was so hard to refute what he was saying when my body was responding to his touch in such a carnal way, but I still managed to keep the fight in me. "I'm not an object. And I don't belong to anyone."

He gave me a funny look. "You trying to piss me off on purpose?"

I mirrored his expression. "You think I care about what angers you?" That was a front…I care deeply about pissing him off and I actively try to avoid it but something in the back of my head kept telling me _piss him off, piss him off!_

I prepared myself for the explosion but his eyes remained impassive.

I love his eyes so much.

He took me by surprise when he nuzzled his face into my neck and feathered soft, sweet kisses there. My entire mind went blank, my words stifled in my mouth. It felt as if I were floating in the air. My back arched, neck extended to accommodate his exploring, heart pounded in my chest, toes curled. Plus, I was just confused. Did he not hear what I just said?

I breathed out on a moan. "Please…"

"You're going to have to be specific."

When he stopped stroking my thigh with his hand I began to panic. "I'll do anything you want." I blurted out, still quietly enough so that only he and I could hear.

His eyes sparkled when I said that and a sardonic, blood-curdling smile spread across his face. "Anything?" He whispered against my lips.

Yes. Anything. I will do anything if it meant I would get to have him inside of me. It's been so long but I will never forget the feeling, how it ruined me. I didn't say that though, I simply nodded. He pressed his forehead to mine and I took in the faint smell of whiskey on his warm breath, coupled with his own personal smell. It was sublime…made my head dizzy. I wanted him to kiss me so bad.

Wanted him to _ride_ me so bad.

 _What?! Jillian! Your rationality…find it!_

I leaned in closer to his face so that our lips were nearly touching with the foolish hope that he'd actually kiss me but obviously—he didn't. He pulled away and turned his head toward the door where one of his security guards were blocking it. He motioned the guy over, gave him instructions that I didn't hear and then disappeared out of the door. Parker entered the room and took his place.

I looked at Theodore with a confused expression on my face but he didn't look back…shocker. His profile was so stunning though, a visual masterpiece. My core clenched in desperation and I felt the metallic heavy instrument inside me shift again. I squeezed my thighs together tightly and his eyes finally and quickly slid down to them. He cracked a knowing smile in my direction.

He was way too close to me. Our legs were touching, his hand was draped over the couch behind my back. It was bizarre. When we were younger he didn't even want to be seen speaking with me, now I was sitting here among his drinking cronies and he can't keep his hands off of me, ignoring the eager and baffled glances we were receiving.

Moments later the other guard whose name I did not know returned with a short, pretty brunette in tow. There was a large tray of shots balanced on her shoulder. She smiled widely as she approached where we sat. "Here ya go!" She lilted, set the tray down on the acrylic bench at our feet then dismissed herself.

Theodore reached forward and grabbed one of the shots and shoved it at me. I looked down into the clear brown liquid impassively.

I don't drink. Ever.

Period _._

"Drink." He murmured.

"I've never had alcohol before." Alcohol's not something that's in my life, just like methamphetamine and crack cocaine. People would disagree with me all the time, but liquor is just as detrimental as any other drug. The only difference is that it isn't illegal.

When I looked back up at Theodore he was staring down at me with a bored look. "Congratulations." He retorted dryly and it made me shrink, chastised.

I didn't even know what was in here. I brought it up to my nose and sniffed it. It actually smelled good. Kind of fruity and a little sweet. Brought the rim to my lips and sipped it then cringed hard. It was so strong! I looked up at him and shook my head microscopically, I can't drink this.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "That's not how you do a shot you fucking idiot. All at once. Throw it back." He seethed.

"Isn't there something a little less strong?" I pleaded.

"Of course there is." He said simply, then tilted his head a bit. I blinked a few times and waited. Yeah…he wasn't going to give me anything else.

I pinched my nose between my fingers and brought the glass back to my mouth. There was a split second for preparation before I finally tipped the whole thing back into my mouth.

The burning sensation set my throat ablaze. I squeezed my eyes shut and beat my chest as I coughed violently. Theodore took the empty glass from my hand and immediately replaced it with another full one, much to my dismay. I shuddered out a soft hum, completely disarmed. People actually do this for fun?

About four shots later my eyes were blurry and I was having a difficult time keeping my head up. My body swayed back and forth gently. My eyes were glazing around in their sockets, struggling to keep focus on a single thing. I still attempted to though, tried to train my eyes on my feet, studied the red polish of my manicured toes. I could feel Theodore watching me from my left, felt his hand slide across my midsection slowly.

"Four shots, huh?" He asked quietly. "Weak."

"I told you that I don't drink." I whined.

"And I told you that I don't care in so many words."

"You're Ziggy, right?" A voice asked from my right. Again, I was having difficulties focusing my eyes so I couldn't instantly lock in on who said that. So I took painful time glancing off to the floor in that direction, squinting my eyes shut at the little bit of light that was in this neon painted room, and hoping desperately that I won't pass out.

"I'm…Ziggy." I said softly, still not knowing who I was speaking to exactly.

"Holy shit, you are…you're Blane's little sister. You look different."

"I lost 10 pounds." I said dryly. I was pretty chubby in high school, not fat—or at least not by my standards, but I was bigger than all the other girls and they made me hate myself for it.

"No, it's not the weight…You're kind of, I don't know…"

"Stop talking." Theodore said darkly.

Is he talking to me?

I looked up at his face and he was looking at the person speaking to me. His eyes were cold, his brows wound tightly together. I could feel his body beginning to tense against mine.

Theodore said, "Talk to her again and I'll wring you out, Gus. Fuck off."

I recognized this feeling. It was the feeling he'd give me when we were children, whenever I would try to be friendly with him. When our parents would get our two families together to mingle.

I always tried to be friends since we were about the same age. One time we were in the backyard of his parent's house for a cook-out or something, lots of people were there that day. It was a huge backyard, way bigger than my mom and dads. It stretched on you see…for miles—had no end seemingly. I saw him standing against the railing that lined the veranda, his head was buried in a hand-held Nintendo gaming device. I think he was 13? Maybe 14…?

He had on Galaga a T-shirt and that's what piqued my interest; that and no one else at the cookout was my age. I loved 80's games and I wanted to talk to him about it. It was a really cool shirt and even looked to be vintage. I smiled big at him as I approached, pointed at the symbol and made a joke, expecting a laugh because I thought I was a pretty funny kid. But as usual, he gave me a disgruntled look, tensed up, walk away without so much as a backwards glance.

That's the day, or the moment that I realized there was someone in this world who genuinely didn't like me as a person.

The familiar feeling made my stomach convulse. I was going to hurl for sure.

I began to tense as well, the tiny bit of soberness I could muster filtering through me. I had to get out of here. Remember who he is. You are on drugs right now, Jillian—he drugged you. He's fucking crazy. Leave.

I began to shift, planned my exit strategy, attempting to stand but only made it a few inches before my legs gave up. "I have to…"

Theodore's grip tightened around my waist and he pulled me onto his lap in one swift motion. "You have to what?"

I put my head down and squeezed my eyes shut. "I just…"

"You just what?" He goaded. He loved doing that.

"I'm not—"

"You're not what?" He pressed harder, interrupting me.

"What do you want from me?" I begged. This was becoming unbearable. I was in a strange place surrounded by people I do not know and one person who I knew all too well and didn't like me. And it hurt too much because I had this ache between my thighs that only he knew about, and only he could satisfy, and I wasn't even sure he was even going to.

"I want you here." He breathed against my neck. The words were visceral, but…sweet? Soft. Careful.

I asked, "But why? I thought you hated me."

"Make no mistake on that. I do. But you're staying."

My heart sank. I assumed, but he hadn't actually said it since I've been back until now. He hates me, still—nothing has changed.

My eyes began to sting. Didn't know if it was because of the alcohol, the drugs, or my cold and palpable sadness. I felt eyes on us, eyes from the faceless onlookers within the room. Judging me, calling me an ugly whore in their heads and possibly aloud as well. "Why? Why do you want me here if you hate me?"

"You've been asking me a lot of questions lately. 3 years ago you wouldn't even think about being this inquisitive."

"I'm not the same person I was 3 years ago." I argued, knowing it wasn't true at all. I was the same person alright. I had no backbone. I let him walk all over me and I don't know why. I've never let anyone else do what he's done to me…and I don't know why. He confuses the hell out of me… _and I don't know why_. I've spent most of my life trying to understand it, but I can't because I'm weak.

He chuckled deep in his belly and I felt it against the lumbar of my spine. "Oh but you are the same person. You're still the same cowardly, selfish, poisonous bitch that you were the very first time I saw you. Evil, self-important, charlatan _._ " He seethed into my ear, caused me to shudder.

I prepared myself for the itch that came from telling a bold faced lie. "I'm not scared of you anymore."

He didn't hesitate. "We can fix that."

 _Oh god._

I held my mouth in my hand to muffle the sobs. "I'm sorry,"

"There's the unwarranted apology again. Here's a promise: when I actually give a shit about your empty apologies, that's when I'll accept them."

"I'm so sorry…"

He sighed. "I'll bite, then. What are you sorry for this time?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, still trying desperately to curl myself inwards. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, for what I've done to make you like this." I breathed, my throat dry.

His grip around my waist began to loosen, his entire body grew soft. I was too afraid of what expression he may have, couldn't handle the scrutiny. "No you're not." He said quietly, so quietly that only I could hear. "Not yet. But you _will_ be. I'm going to make you sorry."

Theodore pushed me off of him and stood, yes, he _pushed_ me off of his lap. I nearly fell onto the floor but somehow managed to brace myself with the couch. "Get out!" He yelled, pointed at Parker. "Get them all the fuck out of here."

"What the hell is going on Theo?" A voice called out from somewhere.

Theodore's eyes stayed on mine as his buddies all petulantly filed out of the room in a wobbly, drunk fashion. I blinked up at his pale, icy blue orbs and nearly wept at how beautiful they looked reflected against the backlight above our heads.

Before I knew it the room was completely empty with only him and me staring through one another. The only source of sound was the faint and muffled music blasting from behind the closed door. He finally crouched down beside me, where I was positioned uncomfortably on the floor trying to keep my tiny dress from riding up my hips.

He rested his elbows on his thighs, steepled his fingered together, pressed them to his lips as he looked at me. I looked away then, couldn't bear to look him directly in the eyes when we were this close.

"Do you get some kind of a rise when men look at you? Make you feel good?" He asked calmly.

Uh…what? "N-no…I don't." I stuttered.

"You don't, huh?" He wasn't convinced. "Is that why you're wearing that dress? You think you're pretty today?"

"No…I don't…men don't look at me?" I was so confused…who the hell is _ever_ looking at me?

Theodore gave me a funny look, one of his eyes twitched slightly, brows pulled in tightly. He looked half baffled, half irritated. "Take off that coat and bend your ass over the couch." He said.

I felt my mouth pull into a frown but didn't argue—didn't have the stamina to on a count of being wasted out of my mind. I slid my coat off my shoulders and placed it beside me then pushed off of the floor with both hands, balanced my body on my knees and laid my torso across the soft cushion.

"Did you touch it?" He asked and I knew immediately that I was going to be in deep shit very soon.

"I didn't take it out."

"I know you didn't. I'm asking if you touched it." I shook my head, unable to gather my thoughts to speak. "I can't hear you."

"No." I whined. His large hands were sliding up my thighs slowly. They played with the fabric of my dress and began to slide it up my waist methodically, then he pushed my panties down my thighs, beneath my knees and over my feet. _Stole_ them, would be a better description.

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind me. Theodore's hands that rested on the mounds of my butt tightened and squeezed, causing me to whimper. I felt him spread my folds apart and squeezed my eyes shut, pushed down the humiliation.

"It hurts." I moaned softly. I had a death grip on the couch cushion to quell the pain of his fingers digging into my thighs.

"Hold still." He ordered, his voice strained.

I knew that my walls were convulsing. I could feel them doing so and knowing that he was looking right at me as it was happening made my already heated body spontaneously combust. How embarrassing.

"Don't look." I whispered, my voice as quiet as the day was long. I wasn't even sure if he'd heard me.

"But you're so wet." He retorted and my worst fears were realized when I felt a light tugging sensation against my opening. "Turn around."

I pushed myself from the couch and twisted so that the small of my back was resting on the edge. He put his hands around my waist and lifted me, placed me on the couch normally then brought my legs up so that my uncomfortable Converse were sat at the edge. My dress was bunched up at my sides, legs spread apart to reveal me in all of my half naked glory.

He was low, his face just a breath away from my bare flesh. "Oh god," I squeaked, covering my face quickly. This wasn't the first time that Theodore has seen that spot, but I'd be a damn liar if I said I'd grown accustomed to it. I peeked through the crevices of my fingers as they encaged my eyes.

His blue orbs flicked up to me and a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. "Embarrassed?" He asked smugly, kissed the inside of my thigh.

"Indubitably." I breathed and his barely there grin pulled into a huge, breathtaking smile. Oh shit…holy _shit_. I could just stare at him for hours…If only his personality was as pleasant as his looks.

"Cute." His mouth came in closer and he softly blew on my sex. I moaned out a sigh and my hands pressed tighter against my face which I'm sure was beet red. "Move your hands." He commanded. I brought my hands away after a moment of deliberation. He guided them for me, placing them around my ankles. "Stay still."

He kept my eyes locked with his as he brought his mouth down to my most sensitive place. He speared his wet tongue before slowly dragging it up between the folds of my labia, then gently grazed the tip of my swollen nub. I…well, I screamed. It was too much.

"Please, wait…" I begged. I needed to catch my breath. My head was spinning like mad.

He didn't wait though, instead he answered my plea by wrapping his lips around my throbbing clit, pulled back, popping it from his mouth and then flicked it with his tongue again. He sucked on it some more, deepening the pressure, wrapping his big hand around my thigh, holding me in place to stop the shaking and squirming. He swirled methodical circles around my clit, wet open mouth kisses, milking all of the weird sounds from my body.

I threw my head back against the couch and cried out in pleasure. My hips rose up to meet his steady rhythm against my needy slickness. He continued this slow torture until I was screaming for my release. This however wasn't a normal orgasm. It felt strained, halted and deniable as if something was saying 'nope' as I tried to work the painfully delicious sensation of his lips against me to my conclude. My mind went totally blank and it felt as if I were suspended in mid-air, mouth was wide open and gasping for oxygen, eyes blurry and unfocused as they strayed trained on a specific spot in the upwards distance. It was as though I was stuck in some kind of orgasmic limbo.

"Uhhh…ahhh…" I shuddered out. "Oh my go—God…Ahhhh…."

Even though sound was barely getting through to me, I managed to hear Theodore's twisted and maniacal laugh. "Can't cum, huh?"

"I can't..." I said breathlessly, I reached out to touch his face without looking for it first.

"How does it feel? What is it like to be denied something that belongs to you?" His long fingers snaked around my tiny wrist and he pushed it down and away from his face. "Infuriating, isn't it?" He seethed. I wanted to look at his face but I couldn't fucking move, I had to see what expression he was making, why his voice sounded as pissed off as it sounded hopeless. What did he look like right now?

I didn't understand exactly what he was getting at. I was utterly catatonic. I think that I may have cum, but there was no relaxation—only strain and impatience within me. My stomach convulsed, shoulders quaked, my whole body was twitching with some unexplained deprivation.

"Please…" I whispered. I needed to cum, the drugs didn't help to sate the clawing need and instead only amplified it. It felt as if I were going to faint. Everything in my body was screaming for attention at once, it was overwhelming.

His face was at mine in a split second and he wrapped his hand around my throat, pressed down hard. He positioned himself flush against my body, between my legs. "What are you asking for?" His voice was harsh, menacing.

"I…I want to cum…" I said, my voice soft. Strike that, I _needed_ to cum. I had horse Viagra running through me. My body was on fire, and I could hardly breathe. I was tipsy as well. I needed some kind of release and he relished in the idea of not giving it to me. I could see it etched across his sickening expression. He wasn't going to let me cum, he wanted me to suffer.

Atrocious.

His brows pulled up mockingly. "Do you now?" I bit down on my lip and began to whimper and I almost full-on burst into tears when he mirrored my whimpering with a sadistic smile on his face.

"Waaa, waaa…" He cried out jokingly. Then, his mouth pulled into a frown.

I used my fist to pound at his back. "Let go of me!"

"Lie back." He commanded, ignoring my plea. I didn't want to, but I also didn't want to face the scrutiny of disobeying him either. So I did as he told, brought my legs up on either side of me and rested back against the couch. He fell into a crouch in front of me again. Then what happened next nearly made me pass the heck out.

I screamed as he slowly pulled the big, silver balls from my sopping cunt. I was _so_ wet, so disgustingly embarrassingly wet.

He made me watch. "Don't fucking look away." He seethed. I was in complete shock. Those huge things were inside of me all this time? No wonder I couldn't climax.

There was no stopping me now, though. I came so hard at the mere sensation. They slid out with humiliating ease one at a time…all four. They were all connected by a string, attached to a wire loop at the very end for easy removal. When the last ball popped out I finally choked a breath, allowing the trapped air to be suspended from my lungs at last.

"Hold out your hand." He said. I did as I was told, extended my hand and he placed the slimy and warm things in my palm. I brought them into view and studied he spherical metallic instrument. It was slippery, heavy, and drenched with my fluids. Oh goodness this is embarrassing.

"You're a fucking sociopath." I said spitefully.

He whispered in my ear, "The only heartless person here is _you_. You vanish for 3 years without warning. No call, no text, not even a fucking e-mail then you magically reappear in front of me again? Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Call? Text? I've _never_ had your phone number or email address!" I argued, pushing at his broad shoulders with the purpose of getting his hard body off of my own. He was suffocating me. Not physically, but mentally.

"And even if I did, why the hell would I have called you? You hate me don't you? You told me every single day how much you despised me! I called you at work the other day and you said to me, and I quote 'You're not the most intriguing person to converse with' didn't you?" I choked back a sob, even repeating the words make me ache.

His grip tightened around my neck and my breathing began to struggle. "The point isn't that you never called you asinine twat. I couldn't give two fucks about some petty shit like that. The point is that you _left._ Didn't I specifically tell you not to go anywhere? You go where I tell you to, you do as I say, you breathe when I fucking say so."

… _Wait. What?_

I squeezed at the back of his shirt, pulling it desperately. My entire world came to a screeching halt. I don't think that I've ever felt a guilt like this in my whole life. My chest tightened and constricted like crazy. His eyes were so cold, so empty. There used to be a fire there, but it had disappeared since I last saw him years ago. How had I not noticed?

"Were you lonely?" I breathed, my voice soft.

His eyes narrowed, brows pulled in as his face twisted into a confused one. "Don't make it sound like I'm the one who was alone."

"But you were, weren't you?" I whispered and brought my hands around his body, placed one hand on his cheek. "Were you lonely, Theodore?" His eyes widened, mouth fell open a smidge. He began to pull away with a pain between the lines on his gorgeous face. He looked so confused, as was I.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back into my chest, felt his warmth—donated my own. "I'll never leave again. I'll never leave you. I'm so sorry." I whispered over and over again as I pressed soft kisses all over his face. Why did my heart hurt so much? Maybe because I knew how it felt to be alone, to be hopeless.

He pried my arms from around his neck and slammed them against the back of the sofa.

Ouch…

His nicely trimmed, thick eyebrows were wound so tightly that it looked painful. I wanted so badly to kiss the tension away between them. Suddenly he threw his head down, breaking eye contact with me.

"Don't touch me." He said quietly.

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up!" He yelled and then stood up suddenly. I closed my legs and pulled them into my chest, chastened. "You don't know me. You don't know a damn thing about me." He said, flabbergasted as he glared down at me. "Don't pretend like you give a shit. This isn't a codependency thing. I don't need a damn thing from you—don't look at me!"

My bottom lip began to quiver at the coldness in his tone and I looked down at my knees.

"You're sorry?" He said coldly. I heard him chuckle darkly as his presence loomed over me. "I don't need your apologies. Leave."

My mouth fell open. What? Leave?

"Get the fuck out of my sight." He growled when I didn't move. There was so much hate in his eyes. I recognized this feeling so familiarly. It was the image of pure, unequivocal dismissal.

I pushed myself off the couch and readjusted my dress, making sure that I wasn't exposed. Then I crouched down to grab my coat off the floor along with my underwear, stuffed them back in my pocket. Theodores face was stony, his body stock still, fists balled tightly. He stared at the ground, not at me and I frowned at the way the skin of his jaw twitched as his teeth clenched.

When I exited the room Parker was standing in front of the door along with the other guy whose name I still didn't know.

"Can one of you call me a cab, please?" I begged, wiping the tears from my eyes. They looked between each other in silent deliberation.

"I can escort you wherever you need to go Miss Pierce." Parker said. I shrugged, not strong enough to debate about it. I just wanted to go home.

xxx

I was huddled into my bed, clutching my pillow between my legs with a playlist blasting on my iHome. It had been playing all kinds of stuff, but at the moment Billie Holiday's "I'll Be Seeing You" came buzzing through the speakers.

 _WHY?!_

I brought the pillow up to my head and attempted to smother myself with it, deprive my brain of enough oxygen so that I may pass out. No, I could not simply stand up and turn to the next song—nope. It wouldn't be enough…I wanted to numb the pain. I wanted to not hurt anymore, to feel nothing, to see nothing, to hear nothing, to be nothing.

What time is it? I glanced over my shoulder to check. The clock on my wall said 8:22. Perfect. I had work in a few hours and I hadn't slept one full hour tonight. Will I need to be medicated soon? Start taking insomnia pills? This has never been an issue for me, sleeping. Usually, I sleep like a rock no matter what, it was almost a talent I possessed. But there was something clawing at me, telling me to open my eyes all night.

Theodore.

Something telling me that I had unresolved business, something begging to be tended to as if it were trapped and needed my help.

Theodore.

What the hell is it? Nagging me so hard?

Theodore…

Theodore…

Theodore…

 _THEODORE_ , JILLIAN, _THEODORE!_

Is he okay? Did he get home safely last night?

How could he not? He has more security than the president, but I still can't help but worry. Should I call him? Just to make sure he is okay…that's all.

I sat up and reached for my cell phone, plucking it from the iHome and effectively shutting Billie Holiday the hell up. With my phone it hand I began scrolling through my contacts. That's when it hit me…duh…I don't have his number. I've _never_ had Theodore's personal number. He's never given it to me and I've never asked for it either. In fact, when we were teenagers I was thankful for the days on end I'd spend never seeing his face or hearing his voice. He was an unwelcome distraction from my own sanity. I dropped my phone on the bed and laid on top of it, pressing my face into the pillows.

There's was a sudden knock on my door that made me jump but I made no attempt to turn around. "Go away Lance." I grumbled.

"Open the door, Jillian." The voice returned was not Lance's.

I shot up quickly and bolted to the door. My father was standing on the other side when I pulled it open and he did not look happy. "Dad…" I said tiredly.

"Downstairs, now." He seethed and then disappeared.

I held my breath, pulled the door closed behind me and jogged down the stairs. Blane and Lance were in the den. My father was standing beside Blane, Lance was on the couch in front of them.

"Sit." Dad said and I did, right beside Lance. I looked over at Lance but he was dead in the eyes, not a care in the world it seemed.

Dad took a deep breath, willing the patience to come back to him. I didn't have to think what this was about—I knew what this was about. I was about to get my ass handed to me. "Who threw a party in my house?" He asked, his voice low.

"Who do you think?!" I scoffed, unable to keep the nervousness and disbelief from my voice. "I only have one friend dad—you know that. If I had a party who the hell would I invite?"

My father's cold expression caused my mouth to snap shut. "Your sarcasm is unneeded."

"When I got home on Thursday Lance had over a hundred people in the back yard. I attempted to break it up as best I could, dad, but he wasn't listening to me…" I explained calmly.

"She's exaggerating…"

Blane held up a hand, warning Lance to shut up. "You need to keep your mouth shut, do you understand me? Continue, Ziggy."

"They were breaking things, drinking beer, doing drugs possibly—I don't know. I couldn't do anything about it dad and Lance was wasted out of his mind and refused to listen to me!"

"The yard is clean now. What's the big deal?"

"Lancelot Alexander Pierce, I'm giving you one more chance. Your ice is incredibly thin right now, tread lightly." Our father said, his voice low. He looked especially pissed off at the moment, the corner of his eyes were crinkled in frustration.

"Dad I really did try everything I could. By the time I got home from my hike the party was already in full swing."

"Apparently you didn't try hard enough. If you did, there would have been no party to begin with." Dad said, his tone furious. "Do you have any idea the complaints I've been getting for the last few days? The fines that I'm going to have to pay? Noise disturbances, destruction of personal property…not just my own, the neighbors as well. This is a gated community…people pay hundreds of thousands and in this case _millions_ to get _away_ from this kind of shit."

My mouth was wide open as I attempted to speak, but nothing came out. Why on Earth am I being told this and not Lance? "I don't—Dad? How exactly is this my fault?"

"You know how he is, Jillian! You have to watch him!" He yelled.

I yelled right back, pointing at Lance. "Watch him?! He's a grown man, dad! He's not a little kid anymore! Why do you constantly baby him? He needs to act his age. You would have never let me get away with half of the crap he does!"

"I'm not babying him and this isn't a spitting contest. You're the oldest in this house, you take responsibility."

"Dad," Blane said, turning to our father with a sympathetic look on his face. "I'll take care of the fines and complaints. Honestly, this isn't her fault…She's right, it's Lance's." Our father turned to him slightly, a hard look on his face. After a moment of careful thinking he turned back to us.

"Fine then. You…" Dad pointed at Lance. "You're not allowed to live in my house anymore, starting right now. Pack your shit and get the hell out. I'll give you to the end of the day."

Lance's jaw fell open. "What?!"

I think this is the very first time I've seen Lance react to something that my father has said. Usually he couldn't care less. But now, he looked as if someone had just smacked the shit out of him. I've never seen Lance make this kind of face before, heard this tone come out of his mouth.

"Did I stutter?! Find somewhere else to live." He began to storm away but Lance reached out to grab him. My dad snatched his arm away and disappeared up the stairwell.

"Dad, why? Are you kidding? I won't do it again! Where am I supposed to go? I don't have any money."

"Or a job…or credit…" Blane added, looking down at Lance without a shred of sympathy for him. "Should probably look into that." He winked at Lance then stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Lance shot up from where he sat and lunged at Blane, pushing him so hard that he stumbled over the coffee table at his feet. There was a loud _thunk_ sound when he fell.

"Lance!" I ran around to help Blane up but he shook his head, signaling that he was perfectly capable of standing up on his own.

"This is your fault." Lance growled, rolling up the long sleeves of his sweater and preparing himself for a fight.

Blane righted himself and stood, brushing the dust from his navy blue suit. "Child, I'm not going to fight you. I have work today, don't you—oh wait that's right you have no idea what that is do you? Work." He quipped, then attempted to walk past him. Lance blocked his way out.

"Lance cut it out already. You brought this upon yourself. We _tried_ to warm you that if you continued to act like a moron dad was going to do this. You didn't listen!" I pleaded.

"This has nothing to do with dad…" He pointed at Blane, his eyes filled with anger. "He's been trying to get me kicked out for months."

I laughed once. "So I guess Blane is the one who threw that party the other day? Not you?"

"You're trying to teach a banana how to peel a monkey right now Ziggy, don't waste your breath." He smirked at Lance.

Almost as if in slow motion, Lance swung a right hook at Blane. I ran in front of him, hoping that he would stutter when he saw me trying to block it, but he didn't.

His fist made contact with the side of my head and it felt like someone had drilled through my ear with a jackhammer. I fell to the floor and held the side of my face as the pain shot through my temple. My vision blurred, there was a ringing sound echoing from all directions, accompanied by some muffled gasps.

"Ziggy!" I felt hands on my shoulder, pulling at me. "Are you okay? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!" He yelled suddenly, causing me to wince and hold my head tighter.

"I didn't…I didn't mean to!" Lance's voice was shaky and filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry…Jilly?" He whispered.

Blane's hands disappeared from my shoulder and I heard the most sickening crunching sound. I glanced up momentarily, blinking the pain from my hazy eyes just in time to see Lance fall onto his ass with both hands covering his nose and mouth. Blood cascaded through his caged fingers and dripped onto the wooden floor, the groaning cries providing more than enough proof that his nose was definitely broken.

"Can you stand?" Blane asked. I nodded a tiny bit and pushed myself from the ground with his help. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder and guided me to the kitchen, disappearing after he sat me down at one of the stools. I squeezed my eyes shut, it hurt so badly. I've never been hit in the face before, and never again would I like to be. When he returned he had a pack of ice in his hand. He held it to the spot that hurt and I squeaked at the cold feeling.

"No…" I muttered, attempting to move away from it.

"You need ice on that, munchkin. It's going to bruise." He sighed, looking at the spot with a pained look on his face. It must have been really bad. "Jesus…" He muttered.

I grabbed the pack from his hand and slowly, brought it to the side of my head inch by inch. When it finally sat snuggly there and the cold burn died down I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"That little fucker." He seethed, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder.

"He didn't mean to."

"I don't give a fuck! He hit you…that's not okay."

"I'll survive, Blane. You're going to need to take him to the hospital. You more than likely broke his nose." I muttered, shooting him a serious look.

"He can take himself? He has a car and health insurance."

"Dad is going to cut him off, Blane. That includes his health insurance too. He doesn't have access to his trust for another year either. What is he going to do?"

Blane looked at me weirdly. "That's not your problem, Ziggy. You're not an idiot like he is. He chose to fuck his life up and head in no particular direction indefinitely."

I sighed, knowing that I was going to have to rent Lance an apartment or something. I wasn't going to let him bounce from strange friend to strange friend until he finally wound up under a bridge with an empty stomach and a needle in his arm.

"I know what you're thinking—don't."

I shook my head, feigning innocence. "What?"

"You're going to help him and I'm not letting you do that. He needs to figure this out for himself or he'll stay a child forever."

"Can you really blame him?" I scoffed, winced at the pain and pressed the ice pack to my head a little more. "Lance has been sheltered his entire life! He doesn't _need_ any direction because mom and dad have always given him everything he wants without hesitation. He's spoiled because we let him become that way. It's like letting a dog sit on the couch for years and then one day telling it that they can't sit on the couch anymore…it's confusing!"

"Lance isn't a dog. He's a person, and he knows better. He _chooses_ not to behave."

"I'm not letting my little brother be homeless." I said with as much finality to my voice as I could muster.

"Do whatever you want then. I need to go. Tell dad that I'll have the figures he asked for emailed to him by the end of the day." When he turned to walk away I grabbed the sleeve of his blazer, halting him.

He looked back at me curiously. "I almost forgot, I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything." He said.

"Penny is starting her business and she needs some projections drafted up for her business plan. Could you please give her a hand? She's not too good with that stuff."

He blinked a couple of times. "Who?"

I mirrored his blank expression. "Penelope Johnson." I said simply and he tilted his head, searching the ether of his subconscious for who the hell I was talking about. I could tell that the name was familiar, he just could find a face.

"She a friend?" He asks.

How the hell does he not know who I'm talking about? Sad.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, she's been my best friend since we were toddlers. Will you help her or not?"

"Have her send me the business plan along with the numbers and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you Bwane." I quipped, using the name I used to call him up until I was 9.

"Stop. Please." He begged.

There were loud footsteps coming from above our heads. The stairs bumbled to life as someone stormed down them. Blane and I looked at one another with confused expressions. That's when dad appeared in the corridor that connected the kitchen to the den. He was out of breath.

"Dad, are you okay?" Blane asked cautiously.

"It's your mother." We both froze. I felt all the blood rush from my face, but the blood was immediately restored, and my heart started beating again when he elaborated. "She's awake."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Tastes like if a potato had jaundice." She grumbled, pushing the hospital Jell-O away from her on the tray.

"Mom…you need to eat something." Jane said. She reached out to push the tray back at our mother. The hospital room was packed with a good portion of our family. She'd just woken up not even an hour ago and was already being hounded.

Seriously, she needed a bit of space.

My mom pushed the tray away again. "Then bring me something I can eat, love." She said, very posh-like. I smiled widely at her gentle but harsh attitude.

My uncle rolled his eyes. "Dramatic."

"Write a letter, Winnie." She hissed at him. When her eyes landed on me again they softened. "Who is this stranger?"

I bit down on my bottom lip, trying hard but failing to stifle my enormous smile. "Mommy,"

"Hello Flower," She said through pursed lips. She brought her hand, still riddled with all kinds of cables and needles to my face, pressed it to my cheek. I leaned into her and closed my eyes. "Your eyes are tired." She pointed out.

I looked into her deep, impossibly blue orbs and watched them sadden. Her skin was so pale, bright red hair split and dull, her voice was dry and like granite, but she was here. She was looking at me again. She was so beautiful.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?" She said. "What's with the bruise?" She ran a finger across my purple temple. I rolled my eyes and chose not to elaborate. I didn't want her to have a heart attack right after waking up by unloading the mess that had just unfolded a while ago.

"We've already given her the third degree, mom." Blane said and I shot him an exhausted look.

She sighed. "How long was I out for?"

Everyone in the room practically in unison said "3 weeks."

"Oh boy," She muttered. "Darling?"

My father was at her side immediately, nudging me out of the way with his shoulder. "Yes?" He said.

"The cats?" She whispered. My face scrunched up…cats? What the heck is she talking about?

He nodded, "They're well."

Jane cleared her throat. "Cats? You guys don't have any pets…"

Uncle Erwin grabbed Jane's shoulder and shook it. "Shush."

I was just as confused as Jane was. What the hell are they talking about? I looked over my shoulder and spotted Lance sitting at the back of the room in a chair, his back to all of us. He hasn't spoken a word since we arrived here, though he did animatedly make a show of pain while the doctor set and bandaged his nose back into place. He looked way worse than me. His eyes were purple and red, looked as if he'd been in a car crash. Blane really needs to exercise restraint.

"Mom, the doctor said you can come home in a few days if you'd like." I said excitedly. "You won't have to be in this place anymore."

She hummed a few times, her face remaining unreadable. I was confused at her hesitance. My mother did not like hospitals, she hated them in fact. Whenever she was discharged it was nothing short of the best day ever for her. "If the doctor says it's fine…"

Blane was sat at our mother's feet, end of the bed. He said "Yep,"

"Does it still hurt?" I asked her, my voice shaking a bit.

"Not with you here it doesn't, Flower." She said softly, smiling warmly at me.

"Mom…" I whined and then reached out for a hug.

"Jillian—give your mother some space." Dad said, pushing my arms away. I glared at him, hard, but he wasn't looking at me. He couldn't take his eyes off of mom.

"Let's get you home, then we'll figure the rest out from there, okay?" Blane added.

She nodded, her eyes closed as she was in deep thought. Then, she began to sing something. We all sat and listened to her quietly. It was Here Comes the Sun…and she sung it with such ease and delicacy. I couldn't help but be reminded of how much of an angel my mother is. Honestly, there is no other person in the world more pure and easy going as her.

 _Here comes the sun, little darling_

 _Here comes the sun, and I say…_

 _It's alright._

xxx

 _Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night just to let her breathe._

"Out…?" I tried the word on my lips, looking at Arthur as if he'd sprouted a second head.

He gave me an equally as vexing look. "Yeah…" He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "A few colleagues were going to grab a few drinks downtown. I was wondering if you'd maybe want to join."

I shook my head. "I don't drink."

"You could order a cider…" He shrugged. "The theme isn't drinking, it's just going out."

"Well…I mean…" I looked all around, as if the answer was plastered against the walls of this narrow hallway. I was so close to the parking lot, it was right there…so close.

"Oh come on Jill, we've been working together for almost a month now and we barely know a single thing about you. We don't bite."

"I'm not really good company." I chuckled nervously.

"I'm sure you are though—" He bartered.

"I'm really not." I said in a hushed tone, my face scrunching up. I really didn't want to be rude, but it felt as if I was going to have to be. I much preferred to be at home looking after my mom. She got back from the hospital the day before and though she claims that she's perfectly capable of looking after herself, I feel way better whilst near her…just in case.

"You barely make conversation but whenever you do, you say the funniest and most interesting things in so few words. Condescending? Yes. Funny? Even more so. Everyone thinks that you'd be a fun hang."

Pressure is building…the narrow is becoming even narrower!

"Jill…come on…just for a little bit? And if you hate it I promise you will never have to come out with us again." His brown eyes pleaded.

Damn…

Why am I so bad at turning people down?

xxx

I heard singing bumbling through the kitchen when I got home that evening. Mom was swaying gently to the beat of her own tune while cooking something on the stove. I sat at one of the stools and waited as she hadn't noticed me yet.

She was already practically back to her old self in no time, skipping around the house, tidying up and out in the garden. You wouldn't even be able to tell that she's in the middle of chemotherapy. She hasn't complained once, or even shown any semblance of pain.

My mother was truly a soldier.

"Flower." She said, startled as she turned around and caught me staring red-handed.

"Hey mom." I lilted, swinging my feet merrily. "If you were hungry you should've had Yvette make you something."

Yvette appeared from the pantry with a few spices in hand, she gave me a solemn look. "I tried and tried but she wasn't having it Miss Jillian." She said and then set the spices down in front of my mom. She went through the fridge in search for something else.

She put her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at me. "I can't cook in my own house now?"

I shook my head, holding my hands up defensively. "Your house, your rules." I giggled.

"Well then tell me about your day." She encouraged as she continued shuffling the veggies around in the pan.

"It was productive…Uh," I stuttered, attempting to phrase this correctly. "Some colleagues wanted me to go out with them tonight and I—"

Almost simultaneously, Yvette and my mother said, "Go!" Looking back at me with wide, hope filled eyes.

My mouth hung open. "What the…?" I muttered.

Mom elaborated. "You've actually been invited to leave this house and be with _people_. People who aren't Penny? For crying out loud, Flower—go! I worry about you sometimes."

"Worry about me?" I scoffed nervously.

"You're 25, you don't have boyfriend, all you do is work—"

"What about Jane?" I argued. Jane is 27, she's not married and she works twice as much as I do.

"Jane…is in a relationship." She explained slowly, and I was confused all over again.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"Mom! Jane is dating someone? Who and for how long?"

"You'd know this if you ever spoke to your sister," She said tiredly.

She's right. As much as I love Jane—we have nothing in common. Thus, I rarely ever speak to her unless absolutely necessary. She and I are almost from two different planets. She's into fashion and shiny things while I'm more of a Radiohead listening bookworm…But I think that if my sister is in a relationship, I should at least be _aware_ of it.

"Is he a nice guy at least?" I scoffed.

"Ask her."

I rolled my eyes and stuck my lip out petulantly. "Mom!" I whined.

"You should definitely go out tonight." She mumbled as she chopped potatoes on the counter. I reached out and grabbed a stray slice before popping it in my mouth. "Why don't you wear that cute dress that Penny bought you for your 21st birthday?"

Ah…my 21st. I remember that day, and I don't remember it fondly. People usually go to the club and drink, which was Penny's original plan for me. Instead, most of the night was spent underneath a certain blue eyed beast as he had his way with me in every position imaginable, then being kicked to the curb on my parent's doorstep before the sun began to rise.

"You mean the short baby blue one that doesn't cover my shoulders? It's like 20 below outside—pass." I said around the potato as I chewed, reaching for another slice.

She grabbed my hand and held in against the counter under hers, leaned forward. "I want grandkids."

"You should probably consult with Blane then? If anyone should have given you grandchildren by now it's him!" I said in a high tone, eyes wide.

"You're going." She said and then let go of my hand. "And stop eating raw potatoes, your mouth will go numb."

"Not a real thing, mom…" I grumbled and then slid off the stool.

Jeez, when was the last time I went out? I dug through my walk-in closet for what felt like hours before I finally spotted the aforementioned article of clothing at the very pits of discarded garments. My closet wasn't huge, but it wasn't necessarily small either so it took me quite some time. She was still the exact same as the day I left her, looking brand new with the tag attached.

Penny was so upset when I never wore this dress, but honestly what did she expect? It wasn't really my style, though it was a devastatingly gorgeous dress. The entire top half was basically missing, which would leave my shoulders and collarbones exposed and also tease the smallest bit of cleavage. I trapped my index finger between my teeth as I stared at it lying across the bed.

How am I supposed to hold my boobs up in this?

Ah! I fumbled through my dresser, searching for that black strapless bra I bought myself a few summers ago. It was tucked between a mass of my most unflattering underwear. Will do.

I slicked my hair back into a ponytail with a couple tendrils out here and there to frame my face, put on a bit on mascara and lip gloss, and then pinched my cheeks so they'd redden. I looked at myself in the mirror for bit.

I used to have freckles all over my face, but over time most of them faded away. Now, I only had a smattering on and around my nose that trailed outwards, across my cheekbones. I'd always thought they added a certain character to my face, so as a result, they were one of the few things I actually like about my appearance.

I slid the dress on and begrudgingly paired it with a pair of reasonably heeled black suede boots before pulling on a capelet coat. I grabbed my wallet and cell before jogging down the stairs. When I hit the landing I heard laughter coming from the living room. It sounded like my mother's and…father's…? Since when does dad laugh?

I peeked my head into the living room and saw my parents sitting across from the last person that I wanted to see tonight. Their backs were turned to me, but Theodore had the perfect view of the archway that led to the room and when he saw me his warm eyes darkened.

Typical.

His eyes pulled down the entire length of my body and I watched as that huge smile he had for my parents turned into a disapproving frown.

"I'm surprised to see you here, though Theodore, you've never visited before. Not that we aren't happy to see you and all."

Theodore's smile returned when he focused on my father. "How could I not pay a visit to my parents closets friends?" He chuckled, eyes flickering to me as he did.

My parents still didn't know I was standing behind them. They continued talking to him animatedly. "Your mother was just here yesterday, actually. She wouldn't stop asking if I needed help." Mom explained before taking another sip of whatever she was drinking in that tea cup. "I just love her."

"My mother adores you, Mrs. Pierce." Theodore said, his eyes never leaving me all the while. "She loves your books too, always reading them."

I think my father noticed how Theodore's attention was elsewhere because he glanced around his shoulder and spotted me. When he saw me he did a double take, turning around more appropriately to get a better look of me.

"Going somewhere?" He asked, and I cringed at the sheer bafflement that twisted through his words. Am I really that much of an anti-social freak to my family?

So I like to be alone…big whoop.

"Oh my goodness dear, you look exquisite!" Mom said, clapping her hands a little bit.

"Just out with some people from my job, dad." I assured and then glanced at Theodore. His eyes were so cold, his face rested in a perpetual state of disinterest. Maybe if I run now, I could avoid speaking to him. "Don't wait up." I muttered and began for the front door.

As soon as I cleared the driveway, keys in hand, I let out a high pitched squeal. What the hell is he doing in my house talking to my parents?! He's never even expressed interest in them before. Is he seriously insane?

Hopefully, he'll leave soon. I can only assume that he's here to fuck with my head. Just ignore him and go, run.

When I saw my car I froze in place, jaw dropping at the black R8 parked _right_ behind it in the street, preventing me from backing out of the driveway.

 _Bastard…_

Anger swirled through me. What kind of an _uhg_! I turned around, prepared to go back in there and give him a piece of my mind, but to my dismay, he was already walking out the front door. He crossed the driveway and stood facing me.

He had on a long-sleeved white turtleneck and a brown wool overcoat. My eyes drifted to his hands when he stuffed them into the pockets of his dark trousers. They weren't jeans…and they weren't slacks either. They were a cross between the two? They looked really nice on him though…anything looked nice on him. He just had one of those bodies.

He didn't say anything, just looked down at me with a blank expression. My heart hammered in my chest…what the hell does he want this time? Why is he here? The last time I saw him he told me to get the fuck out of his sight. Now he's back, not looking the slightest bit remorseful for drugging me.

The silence stretched on and it began to make me uncomfortable "…Can you move your car, please?" I asked, my voice soft.

He ignored that. "What do you have on underneath that?"

I looked down to my boots, up my long coat which was knotted closed. "Just a dress…" I whispered, my eyes flickering up to him momentarily.

"Show me. Now." He said quietly.

Oh for fucks sake, why?

I sighed and reached up to undo the knot from the belt holding the coat closed then pulled it apart, revealing my dress and wincing as the cold air the hit my exposed areas.

Theodore's blue eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. He grabbed my waist between his hands and pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest. "You're not going anywhere in that." He growled in my ear.

"What?" I scoffed, pushing away so that I could meet his eyes. "What's wrong with it?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're really stupid, you know that? A genuine certified idiot." I gave him an offended look.

"Let go of me, you psycho." I grumbled, pushing at his chest. I could feel the hard muscles of his pectorals beneath my hands and ignored the way my heart flittered at the tautness.

Dude is ripped.

He wouldn't let me push away, instead he pressed his lips to my neck and slid his hand down my back to my ass before squeezing it.

"You don't know psycho…you haven't seen shit yet." He promised.

"Oh trust me, I have." I countered.

Then suddenly, a painful sensation overcame me. My lungs shriveled up when I felt teeth dig into the flesh of my shoulder.

My mouth fell open and I gasped inaudibly, the sharp pain shooting through my arm and causing it to spasm. Strings of white, sinewy agony overtook my vision and punctuated some unfounded confusion and panic.

"Ow!" I cried out. What the actual fuck?

I reached around his back and pinched the skin there between my fingers with the hope of getting his teeth out of my skin, but it seemed to not bother him.

He grunted, his arms tightening around my waist as he pulled me even closer. I could feel his erection pressing into my tummy, throbbing.

Oh my god. Is he actually getting a kick out of this?

When he pulled back my arm felt numb. I peeked over at my shoulder and gasped. There was a huge moist, red swelter just above the skin of my collarbone with teeth marks all around it. This asshole!

"What the hell is your problem?!" I whisper harshly, pretty sure that my face is a mixture between disbelief and annoyance.

"Oh golly gee, looks like you can't wear that dress now." He deadpanned and pointed over his shoulder. "Go change."

I couldn't believe it, he left a huge hickey on my shoulder so I would change? What the actual _fuck?_ Since when does he care how I dress?

I was not in the mood to satisfy him. "I'm not changing anything."

"Jillian!" He growled, his hand snaking around my throat. I stumbled into the side of my car, my back pressing against the passenger door. "I don't want to have to ask you again."

"You won't have to. Because the answer is now, and will indefinitely be 'no'."

He pulled my bottom lip from between my teeth with his thumb. I hadn't even realized I was biting it. "Testing my patience again, hm?"

I laughed once. "Patience? You don't have patience. You're a time bomb and I'm always waiting for you to explode. Even when I'm doing it right, to you it's wrong. You _want_ it to be wrong so that you can chastise me."

He laughed, but it was more of an exasperated one. "God! You're the most insufferable bitch I've ever met."

"The plot thickens!" I rolled my eyes, trying hard to avoid his intimidating glare.

I was putting my foot down right now. I wasn't going to let him dictate every aspect of my life, including the way that I dressed.

Who the hell does he think he is? I'm an adult! I don't dress up very often, but the one time I actually try to he calls me stupid and tells me to change? Can I not have one thing? I didn't move. I wasn't going to change and that's final.

He drug his hand from my neck, down my chest and cupped one of my breasts through the dress. When his finger brushed across my hardened nipple I had to bite my lip to stifle the moan. Don't let him affect you, Jillian.

 _But he does_ __ _affect you, damn it. And he's the ONLY one who does._

 _But don't let him know._

… _He knows._

His eyes travelled from my chest back to my eyes again. "Change."

How many times are we going around in this circle? I've already made it clear that it's not happening.

I tried, "Why?"

He didn't hesitate. "Because if I have to sit and watch as other men leer at you again I'll probably have to kill someone tonight."

I shook my head once to clear it. "Beg your pardon?"

His cold, iridescent eyes stared down at me, reflected off the streetlight over our heads and seemed to almost glow. Then, his mouth curled into a small, panty-dropping grin. He shook his head and mouthed, "Moron."

I didn't understand! Who the hell was leering at me and when? Is he talking about last Friday? He must need an eye exam because no one was looking at me to my knowledge. This was beginning to get redundant. I checked my phone quickly, it was almost time to meet Arthur and everyone else.

"I don't have time to change…" I bargained.

"Make time." He said simply.

"What if I promise to leave the coat on?"

"I don't give a fuck about your promises." Of course you don't…

"I will not take off the coat, okay? Look!" I knotted up the coat and held out my arms on either side of me. "I couldn't even if I wanted to, you have _ruined_ my shoulder." I pointed to the shoulder he'd lacerated, it was definitely going to be bruised to all hell tomorrow morning.

He narrowed those perfect eyes at me and I could tell he was slipping, possibly about to give in and let it be. I could have been reading it wrong though, as I was terrible when it came to determining his mood. He had a really good poker-face.

"Can I go now, please?" I begged as I pulled my car keys out of my coat pocket. He snatched the keys from my hand and I threw him a dirty look. "What the hell?"

He pointed in the direction of his car without another word.

"You want me to get in your car so you can take me somewhere and abandon me there and I can catch pneumonia again? Thanks but no thanks."

"I'm not going to leave you anywhere. Get in the car." He said through clenched teeth.

We had a small stare down where I was more skeptical and wary than repellant. Finally, I threw my hands in the air on a groan, storming over to the passenger side of his car and pulling the handle but it was locked. He came up behind me, clicked the button on his key and pulled the door open for me. I looked back at him in shock. Uh, what?

"You going to keep staring at me or are you going to get inside?" He breathed out, rolled his eyes.

I blinked a couple of times and was sure that my mouth was hanging open, but chose to let it go. I slid in and he closed to door behind me. Seconds later he was beside me and starting the car.

He pointed at the screen on the dashboard and asked, "Where am I going?"

I brought my hand up to the touch pad and typed in the location. When the voice began navigating I sat back and pulled the seatbelt around my body.

We drove in seriously uncomfortable silence. I kept my face turned to the window, letting the thoughts flow through my mind freely as the city landscape drifted past me.

"How was work?" I asked quietly. Don't ask why I asked him that—I don't know myself, it just slipped out. If I'm being completely honest I just enjoyed the sound of his voice. It was smooth and deep and made my head fuzzy. I liked that feeling.

He shrugged, his brows pulling in as he kept his eyes on the road. "Fucking work?"

"No need to get offended. Just trying to make conversation."

"Whenever you speak to me I want to strangle you." He admitted quietly.

 _Jesus Christ…_

"Why though? What is it about me that annoys you so much? Why do you hate me?" I pried, stepping way out of my comfort zone. I will ask that question in my head a million times, but the thought of asking it to him directly made me sick. Quite frankly, I didn't want to know the answer, but I couldn't stop the words from falling out of my mouth.

"Because you're you." He murmured, then his eyes met mine. "That's why."

"Well that solves that I guess." I grumbled haughtily, pressing my face into my hand. Because 'I'm _me_ '? How can a reason get anymore insulting than that? It's not any specific part of me that he dislikes, it's everything.

Yet he won't leave me alone. Three years ago if he told me that he hated me I wouldn't have a doubt in my mind that he did. I rarely ran into him, and when I did he would regard me with such disgust that it made my blood curdle. I don't get the same vibe from him as I did back then. Now, though he was still cold and hurtful, there was a calm to him that didn't exist before. The menacing look in his eyes was more tamed, more controlled. I can't describe it even if I wanted to. I didn't know how.

"Usually, when you hate someone…don't you try to avoid them?" I began, but a quick and furious glance in my direction made my mouth pull shut and stay shut.

He began to white knuckle the steering wheel, his jaw tensing. "I _despise_ you. And I'd be _fucking_ remissed to not let you know just how much."

My stomach twisted into knots at his words. I can't cry now, not knowing what I know. This is not news. Suck it up. He's said worse, he's done worse. Why do I cry so much when it comes to him? Why do I let him make me cry? I squeezed my eyes shut and turned back to the window, unwilling to let him see me upset.

When we finally reached the bar and Theodore parked in one of the empty spaces. I hopped out on my own without even a backwards glance. I kept my head down all the way to the entrance where I pulled open the door and was met with a rush of warm air.

The restaurant was pretty busy, almost every table was full. Those that were not were occupied by a red _Reserved_ plaque. It was a sushi bar off of 2nd avenue, a place I've never been to before because I don't really like sushi that much. I don't hate it, but it's not my favorite thing in the world either. The atmosphere was fantastic though, with lots of friendly chatter and a kind face to greet me.

"Welcome!" The hostess said, and held up her index finger. "Just one?"

"I'm actually meeting some friends…" I muttered as I scanned the space for a familiar face. My eyes stopped when I landed on one at a booth nudged between the bar and the window. Martha! I could see her bubbly face as she spoke animatedly to the people in front of her.

I pointed over the hostess' shoulder and began in that direction. "They're over there." I said, but she wasn't looking at me anymore. Her mouth was hanging wide open, her eyes sparkling brightly. She looked as if she wanted to say something but every time she tried a weird sound would just fall out.

I turned around slightly to see what she was looking at and caught Theodore standing a few inches behind me, his eyes glued to mine and not even noticing the woman who has finally found her voice.

"Table for one?" She stuttered, trying desperately to get his attention with a wave of the hand. She was basically drooling, this girl.

 _Ah, of course._

If I didn't hate and fear the bastard so much he might just have the same effect on me. But every time I see him, instead of becoming dumbfounded by his incalculable beauty like most women, a wave of nausea rolls over me.

I rolled my eyes and saw Theodore's body tighten as I did. He took one step closer to me, closing the distance between us and pressed his lips to my ear. "Don't roll your eyes."

"I wasn't rolling them at you…" I muttered petulantly.

"Did I ask if you were?"

"Fine, I'm sorry." I sighed and began to walk towards Martha's table. Theodore was hot on my heels, following casually behind me and bypassing that poor love struck girl at the entrance.

I stopped in front of the booth and waved. "Hi guys!"

"Jill!" Martha squeaked with a bit of shock to her voice. "Oh wow, I didn't think you'd come?"

Arthur pointed at Martha, nodding his head. "Me either, honestly..." Dave and Kelly nodded at me and I nodded back politely. They were both from the neurology department and married…to each other. Martha was from genetics.

"Well sit, sit!" Martha lilted. She began to scoot down to make room for me on the bench, but stopped suddenly. In fact, everyone at the table seemed to quiet down and they were all looking behind me. I didn't need to check, I knew what they were looking at.

"Oh…um," I looked over my shoulder and scratched my head as I contemplated how to introduce him. "This is uh…"

"Theodore—pleasure." He said coolly, nodded his head a bit. The entire table sweltered with silence. _Urk…_

"Well fuck…" Kelly said suddenly, triggering laughs from everyone.

"Literally just read my mind…" Dave said, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact that his wife just more or less had a mini orgasm over another man.

"Oh pipe it Kelly. Nice to meet you, Theodore!" Martha lilted and motioned for us both to have a seat. I slid into the booth and immediately reached for the menu in the middle of the table. No one had any food yet, so I assumed they either already ordered or were waiting. I on the other hand, was starving since I'd barely eaten anything all day.

I tried asking. "Have you guys ordered yet?"

Arthur shook his head and grabbed the other menu from the table. "We were waiting for you."

"Sorry I'm late…" I said sheepishly.

"You're actually not." Dave assured. "Martha got here first, she's been waiting for like an hour." I glanced over to Martha with a look of surprise.

"I had to get us a table! This place is really popular…we couldn't just walk in and demand a table for five."

I gave her a small smile. "Why not make a reservation, then?"

The way her face dropped told me that she hadn't even thought to do that. "Shit." She grumbled and we all laughed.

Kelly flipped through her menu and asked, "I thought you hated us all, Jill—you never agreed to go out before tonight. What made you change your mind?"

"I don't hate you guys." I breathed out, suddenly embarrassed that they'd even think that. "I was just really busy with a lot of personal things is all."

"Can't say I blame you," Martha chimed in from beside me and pointed down the table. "If I had a man like that I'd never leave the house either."

Oh my God…

I shook my head fervently, shook the blush from my cheeks. Theodore's mouth turned up into a devilish smile and I nearly melted. He was really close to me and his hand was squeezing my bare thigh, inching up my dress to the heat in between there, not fearing such close contact with me. I tried to ignore the way his eyes lingered on mine as the laughter died down. Oh yeah, he got a real kick out of that. Why? Who knows?

"How long have you two been together?" Dave asked.

"We've known each other since elementary school but we're not dating," I mumbled, much to everyone's surprise. "Just friends." I lied.

Theodore and I were most definitely not friends, but I didn't know how else to describe my relationship with him to my colleagues. He also wasn't my fuck buddy because we haven't had sex in years. And even if he was…can't really say that either, now can I?

"That so?" Arthur asked and I nodded.

"You two look so good together, though…" Martha added sadly.

"I didn't even know it was possible for two insanely good looking people to not be sexually attracted to one another." Kelly scoffed, earning herself a howl from Dave.

I coughed on my water and put the glass down. "Wow, what?"

"What do you do for work, Theodore?" Arthur asked, redirecting the subject swiftly. I had to thank him later.

Theodore gave Arthur a bored look before finally saying, "I'm an entrepreneur."

Vague, much? But then again, I guess he can't exactly say 'I'm heir to a multi-trillion dollar enterprise'.

"Ah, so you're unemployed." Martha said and then laughed at herself. I couldn't help but laugh too, not because the joke was funny, but because she couldn't have been more wrong. This man next to me had more money than he knew what to do with, but he still worked a 9-5 just like everyone else here. Theodore isn't a slacker. He graduated from Harvard, is a philanthropist, and he's ridiculously diligent and hard working.

"I think I'll get the avocado roll…" I muttered quietly. I liked avocado and I like salmon, seemed like a good deal to me.

"The sweet potato rolls here are so good!" Kelly said, reaching over the table to point out the weird roll on my menu. I regarded it with curiosity, looking over the contents. My eyes landed on something in particular and my mouth turned over into a frown.

"Ah, I can't eat it…" I said with disappointment.

"Why's that?" She asked.

"She's allergic to cinnamon." Theodore answered before I could. My head snapped over to him, my eyes wide. He was looking down at the menu in my hand, deciding what he wanted for himself it seemed.

 _How the hell does he know that I'm allergic to cinnamon?_

I looked back over to Kelly and then awkwardly nudged my head over to him, confirming his words.

"So…genetics?" I said to Martha, trying to get the spotlight off of myself. She looked up from her menu with a passion in her eyes. "I'd like to hear about that."

The waitress came over and we placed our orders. We all listened as Martha spoke about her work with ease. She really likes her job. I know the feeling. Whenever I start talking about mine I literally can't stop. It's too much fun.

"How about your replication work though?" Martha asked after she finished, bringing her beer to her mouth and taking a long sip.

I looked at Arthur with a shy smile. "It's…uh,"

"Nerve-wracking." He finished my sentence perfectly and we both chuckled.

"No progress?" Dave asked.

"It's not that there's no progress, we just have a lot of hiccups here and there." Arthur explained and I nodded my agreement. "The cultures keep…reverting."

"So when you introduce a bacteria to an exploitive environment it can do one of three things. It will mutate, replicate, or revert—" I peeked over to Theodore who still hadn't taken his eyes off of me. "Revert meaning turn back to its original cellular construction, which is bad in this case because it would mean that the host wasn't powerful enough to sustain the bacteria. We have to redo the entire process. Anyway, we've been experiencing a lot of reverting in some of our cultures. It's actually infuriating." I sighed.

"Have you tried using a deterrent?" Theodore asked suddenly. Everyone's eyes fell on him then, we all looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

What the hell does he know about deterrents? What does he know about complex microbiology in general?

"We've tried all kinds of deterrents. They still revert." Arthur said slowly.

"Are you applying them bilaterally? If you inject the steroid anterior to the nucleus, the chances of it being rejected by the cell are lessened."

I laughed once, scowling at him. What a joke. "You don't think we've tried that?"

He shrugged, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Have you?"

I was so ready to tell him that we had tried it several times, but as I searched the back of my mind I couldn't recall it…no. Oh wow, I hadn't even thought about it until he said something. It's so obvious, but I never thought of it.

Arthur made a disgruntled expression and I mirrored it. "How have we never thought to do that?"

My eyes squeezed shut. "I have no idea."

"Did you study microbiology, Theodore?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah what did you study in school?" Martha added.

"I majored in business management and minored in history." Theodore said, swiftly shutting down that theory. "How do I know? I just know."

Bullshit. That's not information that regular people just _know_.

"That's a really good idea actually," Kelly chimed in, pulling me away from our silent eye battle. He was winning it anyway and couldn't wipe the shit eating grin from his face.

Arthur mumbled something in Mandarin under his breath. He does that a lot.

"What was that, Arthur?" I pressed.

He shook his head and pointed at Theodore. "Nothing, your friend is just really smart."

Uhg. I just wanted to tell him to shut up. I've no idea where that impulse even came from. Theodore was only being a smartass to demean me, as usual. Yes, he was smart, but more of a smart-aleck than a smart son of a bitch.

All of my colleagues were eating Theodore up. Theodore answered their questions politely, quietly. He didn't raise his voice too high, didn't speak too softly. God, I loved his voice. I also hate to admit that I loved the way his thumb gently stroked my thigh as he sat tucked into me. I was beginning to get hot and heavy from his touch, there was barely any hiding it at this point.

They also wouldn't stop asking about the two of us. What the hell did I just say? We aren't a couple damn it. I tried to eat without the huge frown on my face, chewed my food with as much enthusiasm as possible. I ordered about three entrées before I was finally ready to call it quits, but only after maybe one more thing.

I reached for the dessert menu and everyone piped up to a roar. "Gosh Jill, do you have a tapeworm?" Kelly asked. "You put that food away like a dump truck and you're _still_ hungry? Admirable."

"I only had an apple with some peanut butter on it this morning…" I sighed as I flipped through the little book.

Kelly let out a breathy laugh. She was drunk…everyone was clearly a bit tipsy. Except me of course…not a drinker. I glanced over to my tormentor. When he sensed me looking at him he tore his attention away from Dave, who was rambling about whatever and locked eyes with me.

His eyes were clear and focused, not even the slightest bit of intoxication could be found on him. I guess he didn't really drink anything. I had been trying to avoid looking at him all night so I didn't really notice if he'd drunk or not. Since he's driving it's a 'thank goodness', because I was so ready to leave.

He raised a curious eyebrow as I continued to stare at him without actually saying anything. "Ready to go?" I asked and he nodded slowly.

I motioned to the waitress for the check and she brought all of our individual ones over. I dug in my pocket for my wallet and pulled out my Visa, looking at the little paper. The number at the bottom made me curl inwards with embarrassment. Jeez, expensive. Why did I eat so much?

Theodore took the checkbook from my hand, stuffed his own check inside of mine along with his bank card and shoved it at the passing waitress before I even had time to protest. The freaking… _nerve_.

"Uh…I can pay for myself." I mumbled.

"Thanks for sharing." He said dryly. What is his problem today? Is he just trying extra hard to mess with my head?

xxx

It actually wasn't that bad, hanging out with my work buddies. Back in LA I would go out with Ash and Carlos all the time, the outing brought me back to those times. Sometimes I do miss Cali…the nice warm weather mostly. Though admittedly, I like the cold more—maybe I was just accustomed to it. I'd much rather be at home though, not just for my mom either. I simply preferred being indoors as opposed to outdoors, that is of course unless I was hiking or white water rafting. Now that was a good reason to go outside.

"He wants you." Theodore said suddenly. My head slowly turned to meet his stiff profile, focused on the road.

I blinked my eyes a few times, a small confused smile on my mouth. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The plaid shirt…" Theodore looked at me then. "Was so fucking obvious."

"You're paranoid…"

He squeezed the steering wheel, his brows were tensing in. "Paranoia is just having all the facts."

Oh my fucking god…This guy was truly insane.

I giggled at that, like really hard. Theodore glared over at me, his mouth pulling into a frown.

"Is something funny?" He asked impatiently. I could tell that he was _pissed_.

You! You're funny! "Paranoia is having all the facts? That's something that only a nutcase would say. And you didn't deny your paranoia either. Are you actually somehow convinced that any man in his right man would want anything to do with me?"

Theodore's eyes began to glaze over in their sockets, he wore an expression that displayed a confusion and annoyance I've never seen on him before.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, wondering why his mood had changed so suddenly.

He glanced over to me again with that same irritated and exasperated look in his eyes. "Have you never looked in a mirror before?" He asked, his tone stuttering at the last word, the tiniest hint of humor on his tongue.

I shook my head in confusion. "What kind of question is that?"

"Such stupidity. You have no idea how much you piss me off."

"That sounds like a _you_ problem." I scoffed. "Not really much I can do about it." I figured that much out years ago.

"The more you talk, the deeper your hole gets. If I were you I'd shut the fuck up."

Oh, but this is so much fun?! "About where am I right now in terms of depth? We talking grave plot, or kiddy pool?" I tried. His mouth twitched and I had to bite back the giggles threatening to burst through.

I gasped when the car suddenly pulled to a stop, all semblance of laughter was completely gone. He pushed the gear shift into park and removed the keys from the ignition. Then, he turned to me and said, "Get out."

What?! No way—he was _not_ going to leave me in the middle of nowhere again! "I'm sorry, okay? Please don't." I said cautiously, holding up my hands in defeat.

"Get the fuck out of my car or be strapped to the top of it like a fucking deer."

I sniffled a bit and pulled the door handle, stepping out and slamming the door behind me. I expected him to drive away but he got out as well and started down the street. That's when I noticed we were surrounded by residential homes.

He walked up the driveway of a beautiful 2-story mini-mansion. It looked like a family home, like someone had a life built here.

Who the hell's house is this?

I jogged around the picture perfect lawn to the walkway and stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching him as he dug through his pocket. To my complete and utter surprise he retrieved a pair of keys and pushed one of them into the lock and it clicked open.

"You _live_ here?" I asked in disbelief.

He didn't respond. He held the door open and jutted his head to the side in a silent way of saying 'move it'. I threw him a wary look. Why did he live in such a huge house? Shouldn't a bachelor his age be living in a condo or something? This was way too nice and mature for a 26 year old, screw it that he was loaded.

When I got inside my already flabbergasted mind became even more screwed up. The interior was absolutely breathtaking. It was simple, classic, and modern. Nicely decorated with tasteful art on the walls, possibly originals. It was so beautiful but it didn't fit his personality at all…he seriously lives here?

"Why do you own a house?" I muttered as I watched him pull his shoes off and cross the threshold. I reached down and pulled off my shoes as well, not wanting to ruin the flawless white carpet with my dirty heels.

He ignored my question and pointed to a corridor at the end of the long hallway. "Go upstairs and wait in the room second to the left." He said.

"Can't you just take me home?" I sighed, tired out of my mind from working all day and entertaining my colleagues afterwards.

"Let me think about it no." He said all in one breath without even stopping to think. "Fuck upstairs." He growled. I frowned and reluctantly, slowly made my way past him. I found the stairs in the direction he pointed in and climbed them.

The room he instructed me to wait in was sparsely decorated and felt cold and uninviting. It was clearly not his room and was a guest or spare bedroom. I looked around, opened the closet, empty. There was an attached bathroom, looked in there, nothing but some fresh towels on the counter.

I came back into the bedroom and slugged my jacket off, going up to the mirror at the dresser to examine myself. The bite mark was black and blue at this point and hurt when I touched it. It was definitely going to bruise for a while, but it didn't look so deep that it would scar so I was thankful for that.

Theodore's reflection appeared behind me and I quickly turned around, pulling the collar of my dress up as I did. I cupped the bruise with my hand to hide it. He'd taken his jacket off and was now only in his turtleneck and trousers, shoeless but with white ankle socks.

"Hurt?" He murmured.

What a stupid question. "Yes…"

He smiled, but his eyes didn't. "Good."

"When can I go home?" I pushed.

"When you've learned." There was a jingling sound and I finally noticed a thick, brown leather belt hanging from his right hand.

… _Shit._

"You're really bold lately, you know that?" He started, reached back and slammed the door shut without looking. My entire body went numb, my mouth was bone dry. I shook my head and attempted to say something but nothing was coming out.

"Wearing something like that out," He pointed to my dress with his belted hand, wrapped around his fist. "Talking back to me, being a cock-tease little cunt, staring at me with your slutty 'fuck me' eyes."

"I…I was just joking around…I didn't mean to—" I said nervously, softly.

"Do I look entertained to you?" He queried.

 _Do you ever?!_

"Look, I get it—"

"Do you? Do you _really_?" He said through clenched teeth, his grip on the belt tightening. He isn't seriously going to hit me with that, is he?!

"You have a mouth like I've never seen in my whole life. You think you're funny? Think you're amusing? Think you're smart?" He was a good 10 feet away from me but I was shaking the same way I'd be if he were standing right in front of me. He looked really, really pissed. He was looking at me the same way he did years ago. That dead, angry, hateful look was in his eyes once again.

I attempted to soothe him somehow. "I'm really sorry…"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Don't apologize to me Jillian, it just pisses me off even more."

"I don't know what you want from me then…" I whined. I really didn't want him to hit me with that belt. I don't think I'd be able to handle the pain.

"You can beg? Though I can't guarantee it'll help much."

 _If it will appease his royal highness, I guess._

I slapped my hands together and pressed them to my nose. "Please, please forgive me?" I begged.

"That's not how you beg…That's not how you beg me."

I blinked a few times, eyes wide. He tilted his head and waited. After a second of silent hesitation, I dropped to my knees and began crawling the small distance to his feet. I stopped and craned my neck up to meet his face. He gazed down at me impassively and I ran my tongue across my bottom lip then bit down on it, finding the correct word in my scattered brain.

"Please?" I whispered.

He narrowed his eyes and said, "I'll give you a choice." But for some reason I didn't really feel like I had such a thing.

"I can give you five with the belt, or fifteen with my hand."

My mouth fell open. Fifteen?! Is this his idea of compromise? I literally can't see the difference between the two! They're of the same magnitude!

"Is _neither_ an option?" I said nervously.

"Five it is—" He said and then pointed behind me. "Bend over the bed, hands flat against the mattress."

"I honestly didn't mean to make you angry. Please don't do this?" I stuttered.

Theodore crouched down so that he was eye level with me and grabbed my face in his hand. His grin could make a Pitbull cry and run for the hills.

He whispered, so low that I wouldn't have heard had he not been right there. "Why are you so vehemently denying that you want to be hurt? It's irritating the fuck out of me. You can't pretend you don't like it when I punish you."

My brows turned up and I felt tears beginning to form behind my eyes. What the hell is he _talking_ about? Of course I don't like it when he hurts me.

"That's probably what pisses me off the most about you, actually." He said thoughtfully, his eyes boring into mine. "You play the victim, but in reality you're a textbook masochist."

I shook my head—he's delusional. "You're insane."

" _I'm_ insane? What about whenever I would spank you and then afterwards your sweet, greedy little pussy would be so wet that I could slide right in? I'd pull out and my cock would be drenched with your arousal. You'd mewl and scream out in pleasure while I fucked your perfect, reddened ass? All the times you came around my dick while I fucked and humiliated you, and then begged me for more? You don't think that was even a _little_ insane? You fucking _psycho_."

My mouth hung open in shock as the tears rolled down my face. How could he be so vulgar? So disgusting? I scooted away from him, pushing myself back on the carpet as far away as I could. He didn't let me get too far, grabbed my ankle and pulled me right back with ease.

"That's it, cry rabbit—tremble for me." He gritted. "For once I'd like to hurt you and you not feel any pleasure from it. I want you to actually writhe in pain, scream in it, _bathe_ in it you maniacal fuck."

"Please, no…" I choked, still trying to pull away. "I won't do it again…I'll behave."

"I know you will, because I'm going to remind you. Now you can either do as I say, or I can do way worse and trust me—it _will_ be way worse. Would you like to see that?"

I bit down on my bottom lip so hard I was sure I'd break skin. Wiping the tears from my warm cheeks, I stood and made my way over the bed. I pressed my palms to the mattress and bent over, waiting.

Theodore came up behind me and I winced at the sound of the belt snapping in his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to quiet the sobs from my throat.

"Oh yeah…strip." He said in the same casual way as if he'd forgotten something at home on his way out the door.

I sat up and slid my dress down my shoulders and waist along with my black lace panties, allowing them to pool at my feet. I unlatched my bra and it fell to the floor along with everything else, including my pride. After, I resumed my position on the bed, quietly.

He told me, "Five. Count. If you move, lose track, or don't speak we start over. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" I breathed out on a whine, blinking back the tears.

He kicked my feet apart, moving the clothes beneath them out of the way in one swift motion. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for what felt like an eternity.

The first crackle hit the top of my ass without warning and I squealed, still biting down on my lip to stifle it. Oh god, he wasn't holding back at all.

I said with a shaky voice, "One." And immediately after the second lash came down just below where the first one did.

"Two…"

"Jillian?" Theodore said. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name in his mouth. Why? Why did it do that?

"Yes?" I answered with barely a voice.

"Why am I hitting you right now? What did you do today?" He asked calmly, patiently.

"I talked back to you…" The third lash came down on my ass and I couldn't hold back the scream, this one was definitely harder than the two before.

"Three!" I screamed out, squeezing the comforter between my fingers.

"What else did you do to piss me off, Jillian?"

I sniffled a bit. "The dress."

He sighed, his voice tired and impatient. "What _about_ the dress, Jillian?"

"I wore it even though you told me to change…I should have—AHHHH!" My scream could have curdled dairy. Holy shit. "Four…"

"Yeah, you should have…What else did you do wrong?"

I have absolutely no idea. I shook my head. "I…I don't know." I whimpered.

"You were way to giddy with the plaid guy, Jillian!" He yelled.

Plaid guy? Is he talking about Arthur? He's angry about _Arthur_?!

"He's just a colleague, there's nothing going on between him and me at all!"

"The way he was looking at you tells me otherwise. Have you fucked him?" He seethed, the bite in his voice so evident.

He cannot be serious. "Oh my GOD, no! I haven't! We do not see each other that way, he's just a friend." He delivered the fifth and final blow, knocking the air out of my lungs and nearly causing me to clamp down on my own tongue. I choked a little bit and coughed out, "Five…" and he dropped the belt at my feet.

He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around but I couldn't look at him. I hated him so much. I pushed at his shoulders, trying to get as far away as possible.

"You don't need those. Especially not with him."

"I work with him, how am I supposed to avoid him?" I whispered shakily.

His hand was around my neck then, tightly. He pushed me back onto the bed and mounted me, looking me firmly in the eyes. He was absolutely furious, his brows were knitted together, his expression was cold and lifeless.

My heart pounded in my chest, hammered against my ribcage. The fear flooded through me. I stared into the face of evil and thought I saw the devil.

 _Is he…going to kill me?_

Fresh tears took place of the old ones, flooding my eyes and falling onto the mattress.

 _I really don't want to die…_

His grip around my neck tightened and I struggled so hard to breathe. "You are so full of _shit_. Why do you pretend like you don't notice the way men look at you? Are you actually blind without those fucking glasses?" He seethed, voice low.

Why is he toying with me?! Is this some cruel joke?

"Why would anyone be looking at me? I'm not even pretty…isn't that what you've always said? I wouldn't be stupid enough to think that anyone wants me. No one has ever wanted me!" I cried out, squeezed my eyes shut. My chest hurt so much and I couldn't stop shaking, could just barely breathe.

After a moment of silence, I felt his grip around my neck loosen and then his body lifted off of me.

I was in an inordinate, insurmountable amount of pain. I wanted to go home to my bed and sleep the stinging sensation away. "It hurts—"

"Did you expect being hit by a leather belt to feel good? Not even _you_ are that sick in the head." He stated quietly, cringing at my sobs. "Shut the fuck up."

He disappeared from the room, pulling the door closed behind him loudly. I slid back onto the bed and pulled the covers over my head. I wanted to run, hide, blow up—but all I could do was cry and cry until my ducts were dry. I fell asleep beneath the cold covers with so much disdain hovering over my head. He's a monster.

 _Why of all the people in the world, does it have to be me?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I awoke to the blinding light radiating through the fabric of my sheets. Sitting up drowsily, I glanced around the unfamiliar room.

…This isn't my house.

I sat up and held my head, which pounded inside of my palm. A headache first thing after waking up? Brilliant.

Sun cascaded through the beautiful vanilla folding blinds like a waterfall and left thin slices of light across my torso. It was so bright outside…did I sleep all day? I haven't slept past 10AM since I was a teenager. I squeezed my eyes tightly, felt the crust around them from all the tears, wiped them with my fist gently. My body swayed as I just sat there beneath the fluffy white covers.

My butt…it hurts…

The urge to cry came swelling up my throat but as it got closer to the surface, I noticed that I could not. I just couldn't cry anymore—all the tears were gone. How sad is that? To cry so much that you simply can't anymore? Though it's not the first time, and I assumed it wouldn't be the last.

I swung my legs over the side of the queen-sized bed and pressed my feet to the cool carpet, standing. I searched around the room for my dress but it was nowhere to be found.

In the bathroom, on the counter was a pair of underwear, a bra, faded blue jeans and a crème top that all seemed to be about my size. I looked at them with skepticism.

I used the toilet and put on the clothes that were laid out, taking extra time to pull the jeans over my sore behind. They fit me perfectly, which was super suspicious.

My coat, my keys, my cellphone, and my wallet were completely gone… _poof_. I searched around the upper floor for someone…anyone, but the entire place was empty.

Downstairs, I heard the sound of cooking. When I hit the landing of the stairs I smelled bacon and sighed dreamily.

I rounded the corner to the huge kitchen and spotted a strange looking guy that I didn't recognize moving across the counter, chopping and flipping things as he cooked. I cleared my throat and the salt-and-pepper haired stranger looked up to me.

"Oh, good morning." He smiled brightly. He was old, maybe in his late 40's? He had a warmness to his smile though, his green eyes were shiny and filled with wisdom. I don't know why but I liked him immediately. I just like people who are smiley in general.

I only waved as a return, unsure of what to say.

"Would you like something to eat? Any requests?"

My mouth screwed over to one side. I asked, "Are you…the cook?"

He nodded his head. "Balthazar, Mr. Grey's personal chef. Pleasure to meet you miss…"

"I'm Jillian. Jillian Pierce." I explained, reaching my hand out to shake his. He dried one of his hands and took mine, shaking it firmly.

"Nice to meet you Miss Pierce. Are you hungry?" I didn't bother correcting him by saying that it's Dr., not Miss. What even was the point, anyway?

Instead I just said, "Jill is fine and yes, very."

I looked down at what he was preparing. It all looked so good, what he already had laid out. Jeez, Theodore ate like this every morning? Yvette was a great cook, but she was no gourmet chef, and this guy _clearly_ is.

"You wouldn't happen to have eggs benedict would you?" I asked hopefully.

"Coming right up, ma'am." He said merrily and started cracking the eggs into a glass bowl.

I glanced around the kitchen. It was a pretty freaking nice kitchen, like something out of a Martha Stewart catalogue. Any suburban housewife would weep at such a beauty of a space, so brightly lit and welcoming. State of the art culinary equipment, expensive looking marble counter tops, camel wooded cabinets, and the most amazing view of the river from the enormous arched windows that stretched behind the gorgeous veranda.

So pretty…Yeah, I definitely want a house like this one day. I see the appeal now.

I probably _could_ buy a house if I wanted to, but nothing of this caliber. I'd ballpark this baby somewhere between five and ten mill—didn't have that kind of dough just lying around. Every year on our birthdays after age 1, my father adds however old we are times ten thousand to the trust. This is only until were 21 though—then it stops, capping at a little over 2 million. So…that's about all I have. I'm not a heavy spender at all, or at least I'm a lot less heavy than Jane, but I don't have nearly enough saved up for anything this nice.

"What time is it?" I asked Balthazar as I scanned the room for a clock.

He chuckled, "Only a little after 7…"

I bit down on my bottom lip, "Where's…uh…you know?"

He didn't flinch, knowingly saying, "The gym most likely."

"He went to the gym?" I asked exasperatedly, how was I supposed to retrieve my things? Was I meant to wait for him here?

"It's just downstairs." He said with a huge smile on his face, pointing downwards.

 _Oh._

I'd assumed he _went_ to the gym, didn't even stop to think that he _had_ one. I slid off the stool, "I'm just going to…"

"Of course. Your breakfast should be ready when you get back."

It took me a minute to find the basement door, but when I did I was pulling it open and trotting down the stairs. The basement was…well it didn't really look like a basement. It looked like an actual gym with all the necessary amenities—weights, barbells, treadmills, ellipticals, tall mirrors. Bit much.

I searched around for him, and after no time his back came into my view. I froze, stock still. Holy…shit—I wasn't ready. I need time to prepare myself for these things.

He was doing pull-ups on a long, silver bar. Between his feet was a circular weight that read 30lbs… _Christ_. I watched in awe as the muscles of his taut, toned back flexed while he pulled himself up in controlled, effortless motions. His biceps were thick and sweaty, and they looked outrageous every time he pulled up into the holding position, then came back down.

That's when I noticed the body-builder looking guy beside him with the buzz cut and shades on even though we were indoors. He was calling out instructions. "Come on Ted, one more set." He clapped his hands together loudly. His head landed on me and he did a double take, lowering his glasses to get a better look. His eyes widened slightly. "Morning."

I held up my hand and gave him a small wave. Theodore stopped mid curl and glanced back, then he continued again.

"What do you want?" He grunted as he pulled up once more before resting again.

I shook my head to clear it, he couldn't be serious? I got closer, almost right behind him and puffed up my chest. "My stuff." I let out on a breath.

"Your stuff?" He groaned confusedly, pulling himself up again.

"My wallet, cellphone, keys…?" I elaborated, though I'm sure he knew what the hell I was talking about.

"Ah… _that_ stuff." He chuckled. Yes dimwit—that stuff.

"I really want to go home, and I know you want me out of your hair as well so if you'll just give me my things I will gladly be on my way."

I jumped back a bit when the huge circular weight between his feet suddenly slipped out and fell to the carpeted floor with a vociferous _clunk_. Theodore released the bar and dropped to his feet smoothly then turned around to face me.

"Oh my goodness," I wept, holding out my hands to block his chest from my view and backing away slowly.

His body looks like a sculpture. It's so unrealistically defined and toned. I never even knew it was possible to be _this_ in shape. His workout shorts hung low on his hips, exposing that stereotypical but ridiculously tantalizing _V_ that disappeared into them. He's _way_ more built than he was in high school, and that's saying something. Nothing subtle about these abs at all.

"That's all for today Ted, you're good to go." The guy said and reached out for a fist bump. Theodore returned it without taking his eyes off of me. "See you tomorrow." He said and then headed up the stairs.

Theodore grabbed my shirt in his fist, pulled me close again and my extended hands involuntarily found his bare, sweaty chest. I jolted at the electricity that surged through me and pulled them away, tucked them behind my back. I looked up at him with as much contempt and disinterest as I could possibly muster given current circumstance. His face scrunched up as those eyes of his scanned over my face.

I flinched when his hand came up the side of my head and he brushed my hair away, back over my ear. His finger glided over my temple and I looked down, unable to keep my gaze on his any longer. I just wanted to go home…I didn't want him touching me.

Suddenly, he said "Who did this to you?"

I looked up at him then, confused. "Huh?"

He clamped my jaw in his big hands and tilted my head to the side swiftly. "Your head. It's bruised."

Oh! I'd completely forgotten about that. It's been a few days, so the swelling and discoloration had gone down quite a lot, but it was still noticeable. Yesterday before dinner I went through the liberty of putting on a bit of concealer and it went unnoticed. The concealer had clearly rubbed off while I slept.

"It's nothing," I assured. "Lance just got a little too rowdy and hit me by accident."

He hummed his understanding. "Well you do have a pretty hard head..."

Wow, okay. I'm actually too exhausted and over it to even justify that statement with a response. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Can I have my belongings? I'd like to go now."

Theodore's mouth twisted at that statement. "You don't have work today, correct?"

How does he know that? Dumb question.

I didn't work on Tuesday or Thursdays, and today was Thursday. I mean I could go into work if I was really behind, but I wasn't…so it wouldn't make sense for me to. I simply shook my head and peeked up at him through my lashes.

He narrowed his eyes. "Where do you need to go in such a hurry, then?"

What? I needed to go home…duh. "I'm sure my parents are wondering where I am right now…" I tried.

"They're not. I called your mother and told her you're here."

My mouth fell open. "You told my mother that I slept over your house? Why would you do that?"

He gave me a funny look. "Why are you acting like a teenager? You're 25." I thought over that for a moment. I can't imagine how my spending the night over a man's house would be a red flag. Especially when said man's parents have been a friend to our family for years.

"Fine, then how about I put it this way. I _want_ to go home. Or more specifically, I don't want to be here with you anymore." I explained carefully.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, held his chest to feign hurt there. "Ouch." He said dryly with no emotion to his deep, sultry voice and fuck me if it wasn't a _little_ cute.

 _Damn him…_

I needed to stay on topic, here. "You really hurt me last night and I don't—"

"Such drama." He mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I didn't even hit you that hard. Plus I'm almost entirely positive that you liked it and that just pisses me the fuck off even more."

 _What a load of bullshit._

"Liked it?" I asked quietly, didn't hide the contempt in my tone. "You're twisted."

He smiled and whispered, "You have no idea."

"Please just…give me my things so that I can call a cab and go. Why am I still here?" I pleaded. He drug his thumb across my bottom lip and instinctively I ran my tongue across there and then bit down on it. His eyes widened and he mirrored my actions.

"I want you here." He said huskily, throwing that vague sentence at me again. What does that even mean? _Why_ does he want me here?

"Well I don't want to be here…" I muttered honestly.

He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his dark, sweaty hair. It looked as if he were at war with himself, turmoil dancing across his beautiful face. Doubt rested within those gorgeous blue orbs.

"You can leave if you want then, go." He said simply, motioning behind him to the staircase.

 _What the hell is his problem?!_

"I don't have any money or my cellphone…how am I supposed to get home? Plus you have my keys, too. Need those back."

"I don't know what to tell you, then." He answered.

Before I got the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind he was heading up the stairs at the back of the room. I followed angrily behind him, all the way up the stairs of the basement, then up to the second floor to a room he disappeared into.

I pushed open the door and looked around. The room was filled with personal 'guy-ish' belongings and felt as if someone actually lived here. Yep, this was his bedroom…so this is what it looked like, _smelled_ like…it smelled like him. I inhaled deeply, taking in the forest and some twinge of citrus, the same scent that made my head fuzzy and my body betray me every single time he's near. Definitely his room. It was mature, simple, with a black/gray color scheme. I didn't humor the parallel. I heard water running in the attached bathroom and rushed over to the door, pushing it open.

"MY KEYS—" I yelled, and then gasped when I laid eyes on an extremely naked Theodore Grey. He was standing in front of the shower, looking as if he were ready to get in. My eyes lingered way, way too long on his manhood. Holy heck he's really long…and that girth is unreal.

I pulled the bathroom door shut with a loud slam, right on his incredulous face and ran back down the stairs to the kitchen where it was definitely safe.

Balthazar was just setting down the most beautiful plate of eggs benedict as I walked into the kitchen. When he saw me he smiled.

"Eggs benedict." He said politely.

I gasped with joy as I slid onto one of the barstools, trying so hard to erase the last 30 seconds of events from my mind and failing. "Oh wow! These look amazing…" I snuffed a bit, smelled amazing too.

With a fork ready for pulverizing, I sunk it into the English muffin and ocher fluid cascaded down and onto the plate like something out of a food commercial. I got a good slice and popped it into my mouth. Flavor flooded my senses. I held my cheek that was chewing the warm goodness and moaned.

 _I've died…this is heaven._

"Whatever he's paying you I'll double it." I said, pointing at him as he set a crystal glass of orange juice down beside my plate.

He laughed at that, but honestly I wasn't joking. "I'm glad you enjoy!"

I like this guy. He's an excellent cook and he's super polite. How would I go about folding him up and putting him in my pocket?

"Would you like another?" He chuckled, looking down at my nearly plate with a huge smile on his face.

I smiled sheepishly, holding up my index finger. "Just one more?"

He already had another prepared and set it down right beside the almost completed one with a pair of tongs. I watched with childlike wonder as he took the ladle of hollandaise sauce and drizzled it over the top of the egg along with some chopped green onions.

 _Foodgasm._

I quickly finished up my first and dug into the second one immediately.

I felt a presence approaching behind me and unwittingly glanced over my shoulder. My fork dangled in mid-air beside my mouth, which was hanging open—again. Theodore walked into the kitchen, adjusting the diamond encrusted cuffs on his suit without even looking up. His hair was a little damp, gelled back away from his face, and he was freshly shaven. His blazer was dark blue with matching slacks. Underneath his blazer was a black vest and beneath that a white dress shirt. His tie was blood red and contrasted the blinding white of the shirt really nicely.

I've always been completely out of my element as to how a man as horrible and cruel as he is can be so brutally gorgeous.

He slid onto the bar stool beside me and without a single word Balthazar set down a plate with a huge, delicious looking steak on it in front of him along with the morning paper and a mug of steaming black coffee.

Theodore opened the paper, folded it and laid it down beside his plate on the counter then began reading as he cut through his food. I guess he sensed me staring because he glanced over. My face was still in a permanent state of 'whoa'.

His eyes scanned me as he chewed slowly, his brows pulling together out of irritation. "Why the fuck are you _always_ staring at me?"

I brought my fork back down to my plate and sighed before looking away.

Because you're ridiculously handsome, perhaps? Trust me, I don't _want_ to want to look at you—I just can't help it.

I said in a low tone, "It's not by choice. It's your pheromones."

Theodore gave me a dead in the eyes look, then his face scrunched into a really confused one and he asked, " _What?_ " in an overly exasperated way, like his was up to his eyeballs in my bullshit.

"You asked me why I was staring at you. I'm explaining to you now that it's a chemical reaction within the brain that causes me to release dopamine and compels me to breed with you. It's basic animal instinct—nothing more, nothing less." I shrugged and then took another bite of my food.

Out of nowhere I heard a coughing sound coming from in front of me. I looked up quickly and saw Balthazar hold his fist to his mouth as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.

"Oh—I like her." He chuckled and I gave him a small smile.

Theodore narrowed his eyes and then looked back down to his paper without another word, completely ignoring my statement.

I nodded to the counter. "You read the paper? Bit old fashioned don't you think?"

He looked at me as if I were completely daft. I realized just how amazing most of his 'what the fuck?' facial expressions are. He _really_ has a nice face. When he didn't respond and only stared at me with dead eyes I revisited my previous comment. It sounded as if I was shocked that he reads the paper at all. Of course he reads the paper—he's a businessman—he basically has no choice but to.

I shook my head, ready to clear up the stupidity that lingered over my head. "No! I meant you read it on actual paper—you know you can read it electronically?" I corrected myself.

He'd completely diverted his attention from me and was focusing on his reading now, ignoring me once again. It took a long stretch of silence to finally realize that I was having breakfast with the same man who'd just the night before, whipped me like I was a filthy animal and then tried to asphyxiate me. Am I out of my mind? _Lil' bit._

Was this out of guilt on his part? Or am I just overthinking this? As far as I was concerned Theodore did not feel guilt, he was a maniac, a true sociopath.

The fact that he made me feel like a moron when he stared at me with a blank expression didn't help either, eyes that told me that no matter what I said it meant nothing to him—that _I_ meant nothing to him. He was unmatched at demeaning those who were worthy of it, and with all my years of sprinting through school with a perfect and unmatched GPA, I still felt like a complete imbecile whenever I spoke to him. His bottomless eyes held so much repugnance and dismissal that it simply shelved everything I thought I knew, made me question who I was.

He didn't speak a word to me or look up from the paper and I have to admit that it was strange seeing him like this—domestic, calm, loosened expression, not chastising me. Perhaps he has low blood sugar and can't be bothered in the morning?

What game is he playing?

I finished up my eggs, sighing when I was finally full. "So good…Thanks Balthazar." He nodded curtly as he continued cleaning up his station and putting things away, took my plate and shoved it in the sink behind him.

Theodore was finished with his meal in record time and was now drinking his coffee and reading peacefully. After a moment I heard footsteps behind me and turned around, revealing a familiar, but still rather terrifying face.

"Morning Parker!" I said brightly, waving at him.

"Miss Pierce." He offered, bowing his head.

"You can just call me Jill." I encouraged with a smile.

"No, he can't." Theodore said swiftly.

I turned and shot a scowl his way. He squared his shoulders and I cringed at how much bigger he looked by the action. I wasn't particularly short, but I had a smaller build and compared to him, I was rather tiny.

"Wipe that look off your face or I'll give you something to fucking frown about." He murmured, his voice harsh.

I turned my head away and pouted. Who is he to tell me who can and can't address me and how?

"Master Grey…the car is ready." Parker said.

"Yeah, yeah…" He sighed, stepping down from the tall barstool with ease, his long legs permitting him to while I had to practically jump off and stick my landing.

He passed behind me but stopped suddenly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out my wallet and keys. My phone fit inside of the nicely sized wallet and I saw it positioned in one of the compartments, sticking out.

"Quentin is outside. He'll deliver you wherever you need to go." Theodore said quietly. I assumed _Quentin_ was another one of his scary looking security personnel. How much protection done one guy need? I've never had a bodyguard—I'm fine. Then again we aren't as famous and in-your-face as the Greys are. Dad was a disturbingly private man.

Theodore set my things on the counter in front of me and without another word began walking after Parker down the hall that led to the entrance.

What? He's just going to go without saying anything to me? His henchman will _deliver_ me? Am I a box?

I hopped off of the stool, grabbing my things, and without a chance to think about it ran after him. He was right in front of the door in the process of taking his beige house shoes off and sliding his black oxfords on. I reached out and grabbed his hand.

He stopped in his tracks and icy blue orbs flashed at me, then down at where our hands were linked, then back up to me again.

 _Oops_ …

I went to pull away but he locked my small hand in his grip then pulled me closer. He grabbed my jaw in his large hand and forced my eyes to meet his. "What?" He asked.

I inhaled his air and it filled my head quickly. He smelled amazing—like coffee, body wash, toothpaste, and Theodore.

I didn't know what I wanted to say; I grabbed him without an actual reason. Did I just…not want him to leave?

The thought makes me skin splatter into goose flesh. _How absurd_. I want him as far away from me as possible. He'd been so cruel to me last night, held me down with his powerful stare, made me feel less than human. I hated him.

He gave me my things and he was about to go. No goodbye, see you later, nothing.

That's a good thing. It means that I don't have to deal with that awkwardness. So…why did my heart feel empty as he walked away? Why?

 _WHY?!_

I swallowed, not sure of what to say. "Where…are you going?" I asked dumbly.

He gave me a weird look. "To _Iceland_ …where do you think I'm going?" He gritted out sarcastically.

Duh…he was going to work. And I'm back to feeling like a moron whenever he speaks to me.

"I hope you have a nice day…" I tried.

 _Or get hit by a bus, whichever comes first._

That seemed to catch him off guard but only for a moment. He chuckled, biting down on his lip. _Jerk._ "How sweet of you…" He said mockingly.

Wow, he is _such_ a dick.

"Would being polite actually kill you?" I asked, irritated.

"Why would I be polite to you? What have you done to deserve that? You can actually get the fuck out of my house now." He turned to walk away but I tightened my fingers around his.

How frustrating! Is he bi-polar? What is his angle? "Wait—"

"Your touchy mood is trying my nerves." He said dryly and I let my loose grip on his hand slide and fall to my hip. "What do you _fucking_ want?" He growled in a low tone and I cowered at his granite-like features.

I don't know…I just kind of didn't want to be away from him quite yet. About forty minutes ago I was dying to be out of this house. Now I was interested in being as close to him as possible. He was being unusually patient and though he was still undeniably an ass, there was a softness to him that I've never seen before. I wanted to explore that while it lasted, understand what was going through his mind. How I could incite this behavior from him again, perhaps save face in the future.

Was he really _that_ guilty about hitting me with the belt last night? I was so confused.

I peeked up at him, "If you aren't too busy—"

"I'm always busy." He said swiftly, cutting me off.

"Oh…" I breathed, dejected. He looked at me with a bit of confusion and a bit of annoyance, as if he were waiting for me to say something else.

His face twisted in irritation. "Are we done here?"

Uhg! He's infuriating! If he wasn't being a raging asshole he was being a son of a bitch!

I breathed in, searching for the correct words as my voice wandered "I just…"

He rolled his eyes and walked through the front door that Parker was patiently holding open, closed it behind him.

 _Wow…seriously?_

My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked at it with exhaustion. It was Penny.

 **I know you're like 'ew running no' and all but please come with me this morning? It's so boring alone.**

I dropped my hand to my side and threw my head back, groaning loudly.

xxx

 **13 Years Ago…**

 _Cheerful shouting echoed through the playground during recess. I sat against the gate at the far back with my head buried in our required reading for English class, "The Great Gatsby". I'd just finished up mulling over the significance of the green light before Penny made a weird sound, breaking me out of my thoughts. I glanced over to her, she had boulder-sized eyes pasted across her face as she stared across the huge area in disbelief._

" _Is that…a fight?" She said, sitting up straighter. She'd been lying down just beside me on the ground, sunbathing peacefully. Not anymore. She was all wonder and excitement, her head moving up and down to get a good look at whatever was in front of us._

 _I gave her a weird look because that's just preposterous. A fight in our school? Highly unlikely. This was Lakeside Prep—the most exclusive private school in Seattle…no one gets into fights here. Not often at least._

 _I was sure that she was just hallucinating and went back to my book without saying anything. She reached over and shook my shoulder._

" _Oh my god they are fighting—look!" She pointed ahead to the middle of the grassy area and I spotted an enormous group of people, nearly the entire student body, huddled in a giant circle. It was only then that I finally made out what they were screaming in unison from afar, 'Fight, fight, fight, fight!'_

 _Hm…I guess someone is fighting._

 _I shrugged, and then went back to my book saying, "Okay, so?"_

 _She shot up from beside me and stood on her tiptoes to get a good look. Then, she looked down at me and said, "I'm gonna go see."_

" _You do that." I said tiredly, rolled my eyes._

 _She bolted over to the crowd and I watched as she weaved her way through the circle and vanished into the mass of students jumping up and down excitedly. I looked back down to my book after a while and squinted at the pages, readjusting my glasses as they slid down the bridge of my nose._

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

 _I jumped out of shock when Penny landed in front of me again with crazy eyes. "Gigi!" She cried out, her voice breathless from all the running back and forth. "You have to see this!"_

 _I felt my brows pull in, "Yeah, I don't really think I do…"_

 _Fights don't interest me. I simply dislike the image of people hitting one another—it's barbaric. Penny wasn't taking no for an answer though, she grabbed my hand and pulled me up._

 _I groaned but followed behind her sullenly. She pulled me into the mass of adolescents, her hand tightening around my own so she wouldn't lose me as they waned back and forth, bumping into us uncaringly to get a good look at the center. The air was hot enough already, added to that was the insulation that this huge thermonuclear circle of undulating bodies provided, made me begin to sweat._

 _She pulled me to the front and almost immediately after a body came flying to my feet, yes, FLYING at my feet. I looked down at the battered in face—it was Shane Yesler. Shane was captain of the basketball team. He was pretty much a model student too, so I wondered why he looked so rough at the moment._

 _Blood leaked from his nose, not a lot but enough to make me recoil with disgust. He coughed, pushed himself on his knees and spit out a loogie of blood._

 _Ewww!_

 _I looked up to see who'd done this to him and surely enough there he was, kicking some other guy in the stomach just as he ran up to him with his fists balled._

 _Theodore Grey…Mr. and Mrs. Grey's son Theodore Grey. What on Earth is he doing?!_

 _His eyes were ablaze. He looked as if he were ready to kill a person. I cowered at the sight of him, blood on his tattered knuckles, hair messy. There was a thin cut across the bridge of his nose, another just below his eye, and his lip was split clean open at one side—blood falling down his chin and disappearing into his blue shirt. He looked freaking wired, like all the joy had been sucked from the world—furious as he stared down at his attackers._

 _A different guy came at him from another angle. Theodore reeled his right arm without looking back and as soon as the boy got close enough he spun around quickly, planting his fist into his left temple._

 _The boy went down in one hit, landed on the ground and held his head, kicking and yelling out in pain._

 _I didn't have the brain power to process why three guys were coming after him at once. That's so dirty! But what's worse is I couldn't process why I had no sympathy for Theodore at the moment, as I should, because it was him that was being jumped yet the ones losing were the majority._

 _Unbelievable._

 _Shane finally seemed to pull himself together and stood._

 _Theodore faced him, his body still, his fist clenched. His chest visibly rose and fell as he stood there, brows wound so tightly, clear blue eyes were narrowed menacingly._

 _It was too loud so I couldn't hear him, but I remembered how Theodore had a very generally quiet voice. I had almost every class with him and he rarely spoke but when he did it was so low and controlled, basically a whisper._

 _His mouth looked like it said, "You done?" And then he tilted his head._

 _My eyes volleyed back and forth between Shane and Theodore, where Theodore had put two boys on the ground as they writhed in pain. Shane held up his hands and smiled really big._

" _I'm not the one who started this, Grey—you did." Shane said, very clearly. He was right in front of me so I could hear him with no problem. "What's a matter? You afraid of a little competition? Can't be number 2 at anything? Will you die?!"_

 _Theodore started towards Shane again and looked as if he were about to knock him out cold. Just as he looked like he was about to take the shot, his eyes flickered over Shane's shoulder. He caught me standing there behind him and locked my gaze._

 _At first, I didn't think he was looking at me. I thought it was maybe an accident, but then he stopped suddenly and all of the oxygen just flooded out my lungs. I watched as he took me in and his eyes began to widen slowly, his face morphing from an irate look to a more soft and unguarded one. His brows turned up and he lowered his bloody fist._

 _He was looking right at me…there was no mistaking it._

 _My hands flew to my mouth when Shane took advantage of Theodore being momentarily distracted. He landed a sharp right hook on the side of Theodore's face, causing him to fall backwards. It looked like he hit his head on the ground. Luckily we were standing on grass, so it shouldn't have been too bad._

 _Just as Shane got into position to rain more fists down on Theodore, a mass of teachers appeared in the thicket and pulled him away. I didn't even see them push through the crowd, I was so engrossed with what was happening._

 _I looked down at Theodore, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. The gym teacher, Coach Vernon had him by the back of his shirt and was dragging him, Shane, and the other nameless boys away from the crowd. I assumed that the boys were friends of Shane's…they clearly had no idea who they were dealing with._

 _Oh heck—I had no idea either, but apparently Theodore is an expert at hand-to-hand combat. I immediately thought of Kylo Ren from Star Wars, don't know why. The power…the force?! So cool._

" _Shows over! Disperse you leeches!" Ms. Urai yelled out, waving her hands around animatedly to get us to split apart._

 _The mass dissipated and everyone went back to what they were doing. I looked around for Theodore again but he'd vanished into the school building. I hope he's okay._

 _Penny squeezed my shoulders from behind and jumped, putting her entire weight onto me. She said in pure awe, "Wow. I guess even he has enemies. And Shane of all people…"_

" _What happened?" I asked, turning around to face my jittery friend. Penny is really hyper when she gets the chance to be, and this little uproar seriously had her juices flowing._

 _She pushed one of her super curly locks behind her ear and then shrugged in an 'I don't freaking know' kind of way. Usually her hair was straightened and fell down her back, but today it looked like she'd just washed it and lazily pulled it onto her head in a bun. It was cute._

" _Theodore isn't even on the basketball team." I said absently, trying to piece together why Shane would want to bring any harm to him._

" _So what? Shane has been like this with Theodore forever! They're basically rivals, you know? Theodore's family is richer, he's got more friends, he's got better grades, and he's_ _ **way**_ _cuter than Shane—hurdur. Of course he's jealous."_

" _Jealous?" I shook my head, confused. This fight didn't appear to be Shane addressing his jealousy. If anything, it was the other way around. "He said something about Theodore being second best? Did you hear it?"_

 _She shook her head. "I didn't hear anything they said, I was too busy waiting for more punches!" She said merrily and then made some fake little punches in the air. She diverted her attention and ran up to the volleyball net beside us, yelled for someone to spike the ball to her._

" _Uhg," I rolled my eyes and then stomped away. The bell was about to ring anyway. I got into the building, found my locker and stuffed 'The Great Gatsby' inside before pulling out my AP Algebra book and iPad. I used the tablet to take notes on. It was way more efficient than paper. I still needed a folder to hold the handouts that the teachers gave me though, so I made sure to have that handy._

 _I pulled my backpack out of the locker as well, stuffed everything I needed in there before closing my locker and heading off towards my classroom so I could be there early. I was pretty sure Mrs. Nelson was going to give a pop quiz this evening, and I was so ready for it._

 _I always pass in front of the principal's office on my way to math, but this time something was awry._

 _This time something didn't quite belong._

 _My eyes lingered on the top of his head as I walked past. He was sitting on the bench just outside the office, his eyes trained on the floor. I was going to just walk by—I really wanted to, but he looked kind of down._

 _Mommy always tells me that 'no beauty shines brighter than that of a good heart', and dad says that 'your greatness is not what you have, but what you give'. So whenever I can, I try to give—even if I won't get anything in return. Nothing would come out of me talking to Theodore Grey, I was sure of this, but I chose to do so anyway._

 _I stopped and turned around, strode to stand in front of him. My hands were all shaky. He still hadn't looked up yet. I don't really talk to boys, except for my brothers. My older brother was really kind and sweet, but my little brother was wild and a meanie sometimes, so I didn't really know what to say. Theodore wasn't any of those things—he's never even spoken to me before._

 _I simply asked, "Are you okay?"_

 _When his shoulders stiffened, his eyes slowly began to look up to me and I gasped. Theodore's face looked awful. He had cuts all over, scratches, a gash going down his lip, and his under eyes were all purple and red from bruising. It looked so painful._

 _I got a little closer and crouched down in front of him, slugged my backpack off and began digging through it for my mini first aid kit that I kept at all times. Penny says it's weird that I carry it around, but she never complains about it whenever she scrapes her knee. I pulled out some Neosporin and a couple of Band-Aids, grabbed a wet towellette and reached up to wipe the dry blood from his chin, the dirt from his cheeks._

 _His eyes were wide as he stared down at me, his body stiff and motionless. He didn't say anything. He's really never spoken to me before anyway. I applied some of the cream to his scars and pressed the skin-tone colored Band-Aid to the deep cut beneath his right eye, then another to the one across his nose. To my surprise he barely even flinched as I treated him._

 _I never really pegged Theodore as the violent type, but this actually isn't the first time he's gotten into a fight this year. There was an argument between him and one of the kids in our chemistry class about a month ago. The argument turned into the kid throwing a chair at Theodore, and then Theodore head-butting him into a clean knockout. Wasn't really a fist fight, since it ended in less than 10 seconds._

 _Shane is also a bit of an enigma. I never even knew they were close enough to have a dispute like this. Whenever Theodore came over to our house, or we went over to his he was always quiet, kept to himself, seemed like he'd rather not be there? I wondered what caused their fight, but figured it wasn't my place to ask, so I didn't._

" _It must really hurt." I muttered quietly. When I finished treating the scars he looked a lot better…hopefully they won't get infected now._

 _Theodore's eyes had rested, but his brows were threaded together tightly. He looked really uncomfortable, but I assumed it was because he was in pain from the cuts._

" _There, all better!" I said as I smiled big. I tucked my kit into my bag and stood, pulling it back over my shoulders. He didn't say thank you or anything, which is fine—I didn't really expect him to, plus I don't really give to get. He looked grim, though. He was probably going to be in a lot of trouble for fighting in school…again._

 _I sighed and turned to walk away, but stopped and turned back around quickly. He was still looking at me with strange eyes. He's never looked at me directly before, and I'm actually a bit grateful for that now because they were kind of scary, but they had the prettiest color I've ever seen. They look like if the sky and the moon had a baby, like cold and warm at the same time—they looked like they could see into infinity._

 _I sighed and said, "You know…nothing is permanent in this world. Not even our troubles. That's what Charlie Chaplin used to say." quoting one of my favorite actors of all time…right behind Robert de Nero and Saoirse Ronan._

 _I turned around and just as I did the bell whistled above my head. Panic hit me._

" _I hope you feel better!" I called out, waving behind me as I began down the hall again._

 _Theodore was suspended for about a week, which is rather kind considering we go to a private school with zero tolerance for violence. I figured his parents were to thank for that._

 _When he got back to school, his eyes seemed to follow me everywhere, everything I did, every small action I made. I didn't think too much of it though, thought it was all in my head. I couldn't focus on it because I had a lot of studying to do…so much homework. I was in three different advanced placement classes and they were getting more difficult by the day._

 _Thinking back on it now, I probably should have been more aware. I was doe-eyed and clueless for the most part because I assumed that I had the luxury to be. No one had ever really expressed any form of interest in me as a person besides Penny…and even she seemed to tire of my deadpan attitude sometimes._

 _I was a loner from the get-go. It never occurred to me that perhaps I was out of bounds and didn't know it. Ziggy Pierce was not a people person, she was a Rick & Morty, Discovery Channel watching, Popsicle house building, sci-fi novel reading weirdo with the splattering of messy freckles shielded by thick, oval-framed glasses…I was nobody._

 _The thing with me is not that I was averse to being social. I just wore my chaos on the inside where no one could see it. It was better that way. My mind was a blender for some reason, and I could never figure out why…so I hid._

xxx

I watched with tired eyes as my best friend bent over at the waist, twisted at the waist, flexed her shoulders forty times, and bobbed up and down on her toes sixty times. Bystanders and other joggers flitted past us as if they were in a marathon down the wide, leafy trail.

It was freezing outside; I could see my breath and my limbs were beginning to shake. Why did I agree to go jogging again? Oh yeah, because I have no social life except for with Penny and though it pains me to admit it, I seriously crave her attention sometimes. I'd never tell her that though—she's already got a big enough head.

She was still doing all kinds of elaborate and bizarre stretches, so much so that I was beginning to think that her body would turn into a noodle, all her bones going to mush. Penny jogs every morning, or so she tells me, so I'd think she'd know what she was doing by stretching so much. Quite frankly, I only did a little stretching and I feel like I'm ready to get going. But then again, I think I'm a bit more in shape than she is—just a little bit though. She had a great figure.

Penny had her back to me, looking straight ahead to the trail beyond us and possibly mapping out our route in her head.

"Can we just fucking go?!" I growled and Penny spun around quickly, her eyes wide. Her pink spandex leggings were kind of tight…okay _really_ tight, and I'd caught more than enough passing guys stare a little too long at her toned backside whenever she bent over to touch her toes. This was becoming hectic.

"What the hell is wrong with you Mr. Grumpy Gus? Who spit in _your_ salad this morning?" She said, placing one hand on her hip and giving me a stare down.

"Did you invite me to jog out here in the cold when it's below 20, or did you ask me to stand here and watch you stretch out here in the cold when it's below 20? Which is it?"

She cocked her head to the side, a small smile pulled at the corner of her full lips. "Why are you being such a little bitch this morning, Jillian?"

I shook my head and sighed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I just had a really rough night last night." I said. Understatement of the century, though.

"You don't have to apologize. It's just not like you to be so…ngh!" She made a weird sound, pumping her fists for emphasis.

I mimicked the sound that she made, unsure of what exactly it's supposed to mean.

She elaborated, eyes widening slightly as she said. "Aggressive. I've always told you, you're not the confrontational type. So it's weird."

Then, she turned back around and began a slow and steady pace down the trail in front of me. I ran to catch up with her, coming right up on her side and keeping in step.

I didn't jog very often, but I did hike and rock climb a lot. So as a result, a small little 2k should have been no problem for me. It was the blistering cold air that offered difficulties for me, and the fact that the trail was filled with a decent amount of other joggers let me know how casual it was to do this. Even in my jacket, two long sleeved shirts, and thick, thermal jogging pants I was shivering.

Penny finally said, "Spill."

I gave her a weird look, my eyes drifting to the ground, scanning it confusedly.

She rolled her eyes, a small smile curving her mouth. "Not _a_ spill, Gigi. You said you had a rough night last night, didn't you? What happened?" She asked, glancing over to me. "You were hanging out with your co-workers right? Were they terribly boring?"

"Yeah, sure lets go with that."

"Uh, details maybe?" She chuckled when I didn't elaborate.

"Well…For the most part the dinner was fine? We talked about boring science bull crap, they're actually pretty interesting people. It was just…" My mouth snapped shut suddenly. I thought on how to explain my situation to her, the fact that I was in between a serious internal conflict. Of course I couldn't be specific on the inner workings of my twisted relationship with Theodore—if I can even _call_ it a relationship, but perhaps I could try and tackle it from a different perspective…from Penny's.

I tried easing into it, "Do you remember Theodore Grey?" I asked, and then looked over to her quickly.

She laughed once, "Do I remember the hottest, smartest, most popular boy in our graduating class? Yes Ziggy—I do. What about him?"

"Okay…" I breathed, still putting together how to address this, hyping myself up for the ride. I was trying to sound as unafraid as I possibly can, to keep the trembling from my voice. If I didn't, she'd notice.

I really didn't enjoy talking about Theodore—at all, to anyone for any reason. He's been really good at making me completely terrified of even the _idea_ of him, but I needed insight right about now. I needed my friend.

"Hello?" She asked, her eyes drifting to mine after a while of silence.

I took a deep breath in through my nose, letting the cold air fill my head, then I said, "He doesn't like me very much."

Penny's loud bark of a laugh made my eyes widen. I looked over at her and shook my head, almost tripping over my own feet from the suddenness of it.

"He doesn't like you?" She asked, unable to hide the humor from her tone.

"Yes. He does. And it's becoming really stressful, would appreciate if you didn't laugh at me." I gritted.

"I don't know…it just kind of seems weird that you think someone who used to have a huge thing for you, dislikes you?" She said.

My head snapped over to her. "What did you just say?"

Her eyes drifted up for a second before falling back to me again. "Gigi, remember in sixth grade when Charlie Haller pulled your ponytail in French class?" She asked.

"Vaguely…" Yes, I kind of recall that. It wasn't out of the ordinary, lots of people picked on me in Jr. High, mostly girls though.

Penny continued, "And…do you remember how later on that same day Theodore _broke_ Charlie's arm?"

"So?" I grumbled.

Actually, _that_ I remembered all too well. I didn't see it, but I heard that Theodore had cracked Charlie's arm over his leg like you would a dry stick in the forest. It happened after school when mostly everyone was gone. A few days later Charlie came into school with a cast on his forearm but wouldn't admit what happened…also he never bothered me again after that. You could practically _smell_ fear on him from that day on. I didn't think much of it though—Theodore fought a lot.

Penny rolled her eyes. "Yeah…I mean, I thought for the longest time you were secretly going out with him and not telling me, but I knew better…you don't really date anyone."

I stopped suddenly. Penny kept running for a bit before she realized I wasn't at her side anymore. She stopped and walked back to me with her arms out.

"What?" She asked.

"Penny…you know that Theodore knows me?" I asked, my breath faltering as I did. I didn't know if it was because of the jogging or the shock and couldn't be bother to rack my mind and find out which.

Her face twisted with confusion. "Of course he knows you? I've been stuck to you like glue your whole life. I could see the way that Theodore looked at you when we were kids, and quite frankly—it wasn't normal. He was _obsessed_ with you, Ziggy." I couldn't believe it…she knew all this time?

"Is there anything else you noticed about him and me?" I asked quietly, but I already knew the answer. If Penny was truly aware of the extent of my relationship with Theodore, she would have spoken up a long time ago.

She shook her head and her long ponytail swayed back and forth behind her head as she did. "No? I just know that every time a guy would ever show any kind of interest in you, Theodore would ruin their lives."

My mouth fell open. " _What?!_ " I squealed.

Her eyes volleyed back and forth between me and something to her left. "What?" She repeated quietly.

"Guys? Interested in me? When?" I stuttered.

Her expression fell, a bored look painting her face. "When? All through high school? Most of middle school?"

It felt like the trees of this park were slowly closing in on me, leaving me trapped in a tall, wooden labyrinth. I was so confused and lost in this conversation with the one person on this world who I felt truly understood me on a very personal level. I couldn't keep up with what was happening.

She continued on, "I mean, you're kind of a dunce and you don't even realize when you're being hit on anyway so it wasn't really that hard to keep guys away from you, but that didn't sway him. I have actively witnessed Theodore stop guys from getting close to you, and he didn't exactly do it in the most polite of ways, either. It was scary." Penny's eyes widened and I observed as the memories twisted through them.

"Impossible." I breathed, shaking my head in disbelief.

She nodded in an 'uh, duh' kind of way. "Let's see…Tony Fletcher? Ever wonder why he refused to go out with you again? I heard that Theodore threatened to castrate him and out of fear the guy transferred _schools_. Lawrence Fallon? He tried kissing you senior year, right? That's what you told me, at least. Yeah—he beat that guy within an inch of his life the next day."

"Penny! Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Her mouth twisted to the side and she shrugged. "I didn't see the point? The more I thought about it, he didn't really seem to be keeping guys away from you because he liked you or anything. He just seemed to not want you with anyone…it was _weird_. And he wasn't exactly discreet about it."

"Yes he was! No one else knows…not Jane or Blane, not his sister Phoebe, no one!"

"None of them were in our classes, Ziggy. Your brother graduated a year after we started our freshman year, your sister a year after that, and Phoebe Grey didn't start school until two years after we did. Ask anyone who graduated with us, I'm sure they'll all tell you the same sweetie. Theodore was super nice to almost everyone, but completely _visceral_ with people when it came to you. It was almost as if he had a split personality. The fact that you were so oblivious to it is more shocking that the things he actually did."

"But why?" I whispered to myself, my eyes finding the ground in deep thought. When I looked back up she was looking at me like I'd just said something completely stupid.

"Maybe because you're gorgeous? Beauty can do that to a man. If you'd had a little bit of confidence and didn't dress like a dude all the time you'd have been a complete knockout. Your eyes, those boobs, that ass, and that naturally red hair that practically glows like fire. Your looks are mind-blowing, and what's best is how clueless you are to them—it's cute. You were probably the most beautiful girl in the whole school, actually. Even Charlotte Egbert was jealous of you." Penny said, then her eyes narrowed menacingly. "God I hated Charlotte Egbert. That bottle-blonde tramp…Now that's a girl who would have crawled through broken glass just to suck Theodore Grey's dick." She grumbled and then shook her head. "Let me rephrase: she would have slid ass naked across a sea of burning coal just to lick the pussy of the last girl that he fucked. She was fucking nasty."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, letting her previous statement go right over my head. Penny stomped her foot and made a face.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel good! I'm stating a fact! You know what—" She stopped, holding her hands up in frustration. "I'm not doing this again. I've spent years trying to convince you that you're hot. You don't listen. Can we keep going, now? I have to get to work in a few hours."

Penny didn't wait for me to respond and continued her jog. It took me a moment of silent preparation before I finally rejoined her a few kilometers ahead.

"So…how's the business plan going so far?" I asked, trying to divert from this suddenly awkward and confusing conversation.

"Oh no, don't even think about it—you still haven't answered my question. Why are you suddenly asking about Theodore Grey? Did you run into him recently?"

 _Oh did I ever._

I was beginning to get a little annoyed. If she knew that he knew me, how could she have never noticed how cruel he was? The way that he got people to hate me, the horrible things he got the other kids in our class to do to me?

Our 3rd year of high school, some girls from the cheerleading squad poured a bucket of leftover oatmeal from the cafeteria over my head during a school rally. It was cold and gross and sticky and humiliating.

Booming laughter echoed through the gymnasium as everyone in the entire school cackled and pointed, faceless people with jester masks across their heads. I was on my butt, on the cold hard floor…it hurt from slipping and falling. They came out of nowhere, the girls, and before I knew it I was covered in something disgusting.

I didn't cry though—that was a luxury I couldn't afford. Humiliation was not a new thing for me. I'd become used to being the punching bag…I held the title with as much grace as I could. If I cried, Theodore got what he wanted. He loved seeing me cry.

I'd somehow spotted him in the crowd, at the very back of the bleachers surrounded by his usual friends…including Liam Dreyfus, his personal lackey. He was habitually cruel towards me as well.

Theodore was looking down at me, and the smile painted across his face was so bright it could have powered a stadium. His eyes locked with mine, those icy blue orbs of his filled with some putrid, sadistic excitement. Then very slowly using one hand, reeling it to his fist like a fishing rod he cranked his middle finger up—flipped me off…and then winked.

Horrible day, but it wasn't even close to the worst. It didn't even crack my top 10.

"You never thought that he hated me even a tiny bit?" I asked Penny after a while. She glanced over to me.

"Huh? I've never actually seen you speak to each other before. I've only seen the way he treats _other_ people. That's all." She said and I closed my eyes and sighed.

Well that settles that.

Apparently people did notice 1/3 of the way Theodore treated me—but they failed to see the full magnitude of how messed up he was. How he tormented me, hurt me, told me that I like what he does to me to justify his actions. He isolated me, kept me from making new friends—kept me from finding a potential partner. Sickening.

I may be 'dense', but I'm not stupid. I know what I like—and he isn't it.

I hate him, and I want him gone from my life forever.

But I know better. Who would believe me? What good would come out of telling the truth? The Grey's have much more influence in this city than my family does…way more—they'd cover for him…they'd make me disappear, my whole family could possibly be ruined.

Not to mention how badly it would tarnish my parent's relationship with his parents, they've been friends since before I was born. The media attention, especially with my mother's rehabilitation would send her right back to the hospital, and my father would probably join her shortly after. I couldn't bring this kind of stress on my family—I've caused enough trouble lately.

I can handle what Theodore does to me, but I couldn't live with myself if he hurt anyone that I cared about. It's hard to endure on your own, but it's even harder to watch someone suffer with you or on your behalf.

Plus, it's been years—people would blame me, call me a liar, ask why speak up now? They wouldn't possibly consider the fact that I was too terrified to say anything—the fact that I _still_ am. That would be much too easy to slap down.

It wasn't worth it. If I wanted him out of my life I needed to figure it out myself and I needed to do it quickly before things go too far and I wind up dead by his hands.

I held my neck. I could still feel the lingering of his strong hands around it, the way he looked at me as if I was an insect—how small I felt last night.

"He's been kind of… _around_ lately." I blurted out suddenly.

"Meaning?" She retorted. When I didn't respond she said, "Spit it out, Ziggy!"

 _Uhg!_

Why am I so afraid of this man that I can't even talk about him to my own friend?! What is it about him that does this to me? The thought of him makes my heart pound in my chest. Everything about him causes my body to ache.

"I just want to curl up into a ball and die." I sighed. She stopped entirely and I turned back to her with a tired expression.

She said, "I hope you're being ironic."

"I am, Penny." I said matter-of-factly. Of course I don't want to actually die—I'm just super dramatic. She came up to me and put her hands on my shoulders.

"Look, whatever is going on with you, you can tell me. Anytime, anyplace, anything. No matter what it is I will listen and if you need anything from me I will help you." She admitted.

I threw my head back and groaned, "I love you, okay?"

I felt her arms snake around my neck and she pulled me into a hug. "I love you more."

"I love you most." I countered and she chuckled into me. When she pulled back I made a face. "You're all sweaty."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you jog. You're sweaty too, genius."

I pulled my shirt sleeves over my hands because they were all red and numb from the cold, felt how clammy they were and attributed it to that. Note to self: bring gloves next time.

"I actually do need something from you…"

xxx

When I got home later that day, my sister was in the den talking our mother's ear off. Jane was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a pillow huddled up to her chest, her face glowing with happiness as she spoke to mom.

I saw them and unwittingly invited myself to their conversation, plopping down on the couch right beside Jane.

"What's the word?" I asked, my eyes volleying back and forth between them.

Jane's smile widened, "I was thinking about having a little family dinner to celebrate mom's hospital release."

I puffed out my cheeks and blew air through them. "Jane, mom was just released a few days ago—too soon."

"I'm not made of glass, Flower. It's fine." Mom admonished.

"Mom, you need more time to rest—"

Mom corrected me, "What I need is to be surrounded by family, and I'll take that any way I can get it." She was being impossible, but I guess I could see where she was coming from. It actually wouldn't hurt to have a little get together, just a small intimate one. Mom loved being with family, with her children.

Jane elbowed me a bit, "Where have you been? I've been here all day and you've been AWOL."

I rolled my eyes at her weird description of my absence. "I just went jogging with Penny."

"For 12 hours? You haven't been home _all_ day." She scoffed. "That's so unlike you."

"The Grey boy…" Mom muttered and I froze. She brought her tea cup up to her mouth and sipped before saying, "Oh yes, I'm aware. Mind telling me what's going on there? The last thing I expected was a call from your phone telling me that you were spending the night at a man's house."

I almost bit down on my tongue from opening and closing my mouth so many times.

"Grey boy? Theodore Grey?" Jane asked, head volleying between mom and me. Her brows turned up when she caught sight of my face.

"Nothing's going on between him and me, mom…" I lied, eyes wide, shaking my head slightly.

"Wait a second—you and Theodore? Whoa—no way…" Jane breathed, her eyes wide. "I didn't even know you two were close."

"They've known each other for years, Jane." Mom argued.

"Interesting…She never told me _anything_ about that." Jane lilted, a bite to her tone. She looked at me and cocked her head to the side, a smile curving her mouth.

"Told you? Like how you told me all about your new boyfriend?" I retorted and then saw her visibly shrink.

"Mom told me Jane." I pressed, pointing in our mother's direction briefly. "How could you not tell me you were in a relationship?"

Jane sighed and threw her head back. "We've only been dating for a couple of months, Ziggy—I didn't think it was time yet."

"So that's why mom knows who he is?" I argued. Jane pushed her hair back and over her ear, moving her bangs away and giving me a better view of her face as an orchestra of emotions danced across it.

She said, "Ziggy are you forgetting that prior to about three weeks ago, you hadn't been home in almost a year? There are a lot of things going on that you don't know about."

Her words sent a twinge of guilt to my gut and I had to look away. "Well I'm here now? Mind letting me in?"

"Fine! His name is Andrew, he's a cardiologist, and he's a really nice guy—I like him a lot." That was all she offered before her lips sealed shut and she looked away haughtily.

 _Really?_

"That's it?" I asked dryly.

"Jane, why don't you invite him to the dinner?" Mom tried and we both looked over to her simultaneously, our faces surely painting some kind of shock.

"That's a bit too intimate, don't you think?" I said and Jane nodded her agreement.

"You like this man don't you? Two months is more than enough—invite him over. Your father and I still have yet to meet him."

"Wait a second," I held up my hand. "No one has actually met the guy before? How do we know he's even real?"

The next thing I see is a pillow flying to my face. I chuckled and watched as Jane tucked the pillow back into her chest and rolled her eyes. She mumbled something under her breath but I deflected it, assuming it could only be vulgar.

I reached out and pulled my big sister into a hug, smooshing my cheek against hers. She kept a straight face with dead eyes, but I could see a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

That was easy. Why can my older siblings never stay angry with me?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When I was little, I got into a bad accident. I don't remember the details very well, but I do know that it almost killed me. Mom doesn't like to talk about it whenever I ask and even dad seems to back away if I bring it up—it must have been really bad.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital room surrounded by doctors with shocked faces. Like my being awake was some miracle. I reached up and touched my forehead with weak arms…it hurt a lot. I looked all around, I looked for an answer. I didn't understand what was happening…I was so scared.

Weeks after rehabilitation, I began having nightmares. I was falling, falling, falling—deeper into a dark, endless pit while the light disappeared over my head. I was weightless, suspended in viscous fluids, desperately clawing my way out. I couldn't breathe, scream, I could barely see anything. I didn't handle the fear well.

I have never been a mentally strong person. I have to avoid confrontation like the plague, I can't deal with conflict. I allow myself to be hurt in so many different ways, and I let my own selfish needs come before the needs of those that I care for. I love too hard, I hurt too much. I'm so consumed with my work because I believe if I have something that I'm dedicated to, I can't fall anymore. It keeps me grounded.

When then nightmares stopped, I was about 12 years old, four years later. I don't know exactly what caused them to go away, but I do know that after three nights in a row of waking up without screaming and shaking and sweating, I was better—or at least I was _getting_ better. I was healing, and I don't care how. I just wanted to be at ease, I wanted my mind to not be jumbled and filled with scattered pieces of who I once was.

But that's not what I got. What I got instead was an even bigger problem, the problem of who I was internally…the present me—the worst version of me. The me who can't open her mouth and say anything because she too afraid of falling again. I would have done anything to not go back to the days where I was too afraid to close my eyes and fall asleep, too afraid to speak to anyone, too afraid to die.

What's inside of me is chaotic, but it's safe. I relish the chaos, it has become my home. I'll stay here for as long as it takes.

And it may just be forever.

xxx

I jumped slightly and held my cup of tea steady at the sound of something being slammed against my table. I'd been eating peacefully near the far back of the cafeteria at school, trying to enjoy my lunch break alone. The dining hall was mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. I'd gotten here late, so there were no lines and it was fairly quiet.

 _Was._

Lance was looking down at me with a tense, eerie expression. He pulled the chair on the opposite side of the table out and sat across from me. I then noticed a huge Biology textbook in front of him…Anatomy & Physiology? What on Earth does he need _that_ for?

Lance and I had a small stare down before he finally let out an exhausted sigh and pressed his hands to his face, dragging the skin down as he moved them away.

"Jillian…" He whined, using my first name. No one in our family calls me Jillian except for dad. Lance used to call me _Jilly_ when he was a tiny, pint sized thing, but that went away a little while after he turned 9. Whenever someone calls me Jillian, it's because either they have messed up, or I have.

I said, "Delancey?" In a bored, sing-song tone, using his full name as well.

"Please tell dad to let me move back home." He said, not beating around the bush at all. I'd expected more of an ease into the subject, but he just tackled it head-on. Impressive.

I don't care if the laugh that escaped my mouth offended him. The fact he even _slightly_ believed that dad gave a flying fuck about my opinion speaks volumes about his willingness to pay attention. He had to be joking. If he wanted someone to sway father's opinion then Blane is the person he needs to be speaking with right now—and if I know Blane, he's not going to say _shit_ to dad.

He gave me a pleading look when I didn't respond and my smile fell.

"What's going on between you and dad is between you and dad." I mumbled.

"Ziggy please."

"Now I'm Ziggy, hm?" I hummed, brought my mug up to my mouth and took a sip, my eyes never leaving his.

He gave me a solemn look. "I'm really sorry that I hit you…" _Okay…sidetracked._

It doesn't even matter at this point—it didn't matter when he did it. The bruise has almost completely healed now, you couldn't even see it anymore. I could care less about it. Lance's nose looked a lot better, too—not great, but better. His eyes weren't purple anymore, but he still had a redness around the bridge and nostrils.

I decided to humor him. "You know what I hate the most about the word sorry? It gives people the false indignation that mistakes can be magically solved by a single word. Sorry doesn't mean anything to me. It's a statement that holds no purpose and gives people permission to hurt you." I gritted.

Lance didn't respond to that, instead his mouth hung open and his eyes found the table. He looked like I'd just slapped him.

Apologies are pointless. They don't mean anything in the grand scheme, and they can't reverse time. After saying sorry over and over again to the same person and getting an equal amount of pain in return, I've learned to forgo accepting that word as repentance.

"Lance if you want to move back in, which I don't advise because you need to learn responsibility, you have to prove to dad that you're not dead weight." I explained.

"Dead weight? What did I do that was so wrong?" He asked exasperatedly.

 _This has to be a joke. He can't be serious._

"You have no passion for anything. You're a burnout. You don't care about yourself or anyone else!" I retorted, slapping my hand on the table at the last word. I was so damn angry and I don't know why. Not at my brother—there was something nagging at me, but it wasn't Lance.

His brows pulled in and he took a deep breath. "I want to see mom—"

"Then come and see mom! Dad never said you weren't allowed to come visit, he just said you couldn't live there anymore. By all means, come see mom! She's been asking about you constantly!"

"Did you tell her that dad kicked me out? Did _he_ tell her?!"

"She knows, Lance. You don't think she knows? You don't think it hurts her that you're gone? Mom isn't heartless—she misses you, hell even I miss you. But you're on a road leading to nowhere and it's detrimental. So much so that even mom can't stand to intervene. You need to sort your shit out!"

"It's hard, okay?!" He said finally, his voice raising a bit too much as he did.

I glanced around at the nearly empty cafeteria; no one had even looked up. When I looked back to him he had his face tucked away in the palms of his hands.

I softened a bit, my shoulders loosening. "Do you want to explain to me exactly what is so hard?"

"Growing up, figuring out who I am, moving on, being one thing for the rest of my life. It's terrifying…"

My eyes widened into dinner plates. What did he just say?

I reached out and grabbed one of his hands, pulled it away from his face. His eyes were tense and filled with fear and doubt. Oh my goodness he's serious.

"Lance…why did you never tell me you felt this way?"

He laughed once. "What difference would it make? You pity me and things are just magically better?"

I grabbed his cheeks in both of my hands and held his gaze with mine. "Listen to me Lance. You do not have to be one thing your whole life, okay? You can be anything you want. Anything! But you have to start somewhere, don't you? Why do you constantly use drugs and alcohol to constitute your fear? It's not healthy."

He sighed, rolled his eyes. "There's no point to anything. I'm the 4th child. Dad doesn't care what I do. He has Blane and Jane—and then he has you, and you're 10x better at me in everything. I fucked up in high school, I'm fucking up in college…I'm basically worthless."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and bit back the sadness that twisted my gut. I'd no idea my little brother felt this way. He's always so carefree about everything. All he does is party and drink and dick around with his friends in God knows where. Dad just gives him money and he skips town every other month doing God knows what. He actually had this deeply rooted self-esteem issue?

"You are _not_ worthless Lance. You just want everyone to _think_ that you are so you don't have to put in effort. Do you even realize how smart you are?" I argued profusely. He just looked away, not saying anything.

I know what it's like to not be good enough, that's pretty much been my whole life. In high school I was hated, bullied, tormented—and I let it happen. I never said anything, I never went to a teacher or my parents. I felt like if it was happening to me—someone else was being spared from the pain and humiliation. I felt like I was making a difference, but I was wrong. It messed me up mentally, even more than I already was. I can't be open with people anymore, I can't trust strangers, I struggle to reject others, and I can't hurt anyone in any way, even if it means that I'm getting hurt by doing so.

"Ziggy…" Lance said, snapping me from my reverie.

"What is it?" I choked, failing to stay strong for him at the moment. I have _always_ wanted my siblings to feel like they can come to me for anything, that they can depend on me. But they both trust Blane way more than me, hell even I trust Blane more than me. He's the one that we dump everything onto, he's like father #2.

"I want to be an astronaut." He whispered and then his eyes flickered to mine quickly.

I blinked a few times, then shook my head to clear it. "What?" I whispered and he groaned, then threw his head back.

I was searching my mind, trying to piece together the short sentence he'd just said to me. "You…want to be an astronaut?" I repeated slowly, my eyes wide and I stared at the half-eaten kale salad on my tray.

"Yes." He said quietly.

"Are you serious?" I asked. I wasn't trying to be mean, I really just needed to know if he was messing around or not. I've never heard Lance mention anything like this before, not even once.

'I want to be an astronaut' is something that children say all the time, but Lance is 20, he's an adult…and he didn't sound like he was saying it for shits and giggles. That's typically something that no one says for shits and giggles.

"I'm serious." He breathed, his eyes filled with so much honesty. "I've wanted to be an astronaut for years. I want to work on the space station, go to Mars…all of it. I just never told anyone because I thought you would all laugh at me, okay?"

I bit down on my bottom lip and then nodded. "Okay. You should do it then, you definitely can. It's not going to be easy though, you'll have to endure years of training. You're going to need a bachelor's degree in engineering, physics, or some kind of mathematics. Computer science would work too."

"I have all the credits I need to apply to the engineering program here." He said.

"Really?" I breathed, leaning forward a bit.

"I applied yesterday morning. I'm just waiting now…"

"Lance!" I squealed and he winced at the high pitched sound. I wanted to get up and hug him, but I know it'd be embarrassing so I slapped it down. "I don't believe it—"

Lance held up his hand in a 'slow down' kind of way. "There's no guarantee that I'll even get in." He grumbled. "That's why I didn't apply sooner, I was too afraid of being rejected. But dad kicking me out was kind of a wakeup call."

"What's your GPA?" I asked quietly, preparing for the worst.

He shrugged, uninterested. "Like a 3.7 or something?"

My mouth fell open. "What?!" I screeched.

"Jeez! Why are you so loud, Ziggy?" I couldn't help it—I felt like I was meeting someone new, and for once it was actually exciting instead of awkward and uncomfortable like usual.

"You have a 3.7 GPA?! How is that even possible? You miss class all the time!"

"I miss _lecture_." He emphasized. "And my professors don't count attendance. So I can just make it up on my own."

"I am speechless." I breathed. He really is smart! I _freaking_ knew it. I reached forward and pushed his shoulder. "You idiot! Why are you so self-loathing?! Of course you're going to get in—who can turn down a GPA like that?"

"I'm not exactly a model citizen, sis." He said dryly.

"Look at me!" I said, pointing to my face. When he finally turned his eyes to mine I said, "You got this."

He sighed, and I could hear the stress and tension there for the first time in forever. "I'm not going to hype myself up."

"Hey, where are you living now?" I asked, curious as to where he's been the past couple of days, and if he's been alright.

He gave me a weird look. "With Astrid."

My brows pulled in. "That one of your weekly girls?"

Lance's mouth pulled into a huge smile. "Ziggy? I've been dating Astrid for over a year now."

I gasped, " _That_ Astrid?!" Suddenly remembering a pretty brunette girl with huge blue eyes. She was super sweet if I remember correctly, way too sweet to be with Lance who was a bullheaded testosterone fueled burnout. She matched his temper though. I'd seen it a year ago when she'd come over for a family cookout. She was a firecracker. They were like yin and yang those two, but there was no denying it with her—he'd met his match.

"I would have moved in with her a long time ago but her lease won't allow it. You know…you're as forgetful as you are dense." He chuckled.

I balled up one of my napkins and chucked it in his direction.

 _If one more person calls me dense I'm going to lose it._

xxx

I'd been trying to dress less frumpy lately. My wardrobe was becoming redundant and dreary, and as a result it was depressing me even further. Needed a pick-me-up. I didn't want anything too provocative, so I asked Penny to pick a couple of decent things out for me and bring them by the house the night before.

The clothes were amazing. They were simple, classy, but still had some youthfulness to them. More importantly they weren't wrinkled and faded from being washed and not ironed so often—another thing I was going to have to work on.

Today I'd gone with a pair of navy blue high-waist bellbottom slacks, a tie-around baby blue blouse and chunky white heels—nothing too tall less I fall. I'm a bit of a klutz.

The first thing that Arthur noticed when he saw me was the fact that my clothes were not the usual plaid and loose. He nodded to me politely as he walked into the lab, then did a double take.

"Nice clothes." He said quietly.

Wow, that was fast. And what an extremely awkward way of complimenting someone. I said, "Thanks."

When the question 'do I really dress _that_ badly' arose in my head the day before, the only response was from the mouths of every single person I've ever met with their surprised words and glances, silently offering 'yep'.

I had my lab coat on when I was at work most of the time, and the coat fell all the way down to my knees, too—I'd never thought that anyone even noticed how I dressed here. Apparently so.

"I didn't see you earlier, Arthur—something happen?" I asked as he took his seat across from me at the table. He hadn't been to work all morning and usually, he'd call or tell me about it the previous day, but this time there was nothing.

"Oh, sorry about that. I just had some things to take care of and time slipped away on me." He said simply, not offering anything further. I was a bit confused, mostly because he was rather open with me. Today he seemed to be a bit closed off.

"Well, I hope everything is alright." I mumbled as I went back to my work, scribbling in my notes as I observed the blood coagulate in the heated beaker in front of me, waiting for signs of clotting to arise.

My head was down as I looked in my notepad and from my peripheral I saw Arthur lean forward against the table. Seconds ticked by and I assumed he was trying to figure out what I was doing.

"DVT." I said suddenly, looking up at him. When his eyes locked with mine they widened slightly and then flickered down to the table.

He said, "Uh, come again?" In a distracted way.

 _Had he just been staring at me?_

I touched my face, checking to see if I'd had any leftovers from my lunch lingering around my mouth.

I shook my head to clear it and elaborated. "DVT? Deep vein thrombosis. I somehow discovered that the bacteria we're replicating hinders the clotting that arises during the ailment. The success rate is ridiculously low but…"

"How low?" He asked, his voice suddenly more focused.

I shrugged, shyly saying, "About 3-5%."

He nodded. "And in the event of failure?"

"So far? I've observed possible swelling, inflammation, pulmonary contractions, lymphoma, anemia, hemophilia, thalassemia—"

"So basically every possible thing that could go wrong?" He answered with a huge smile on his face.

I sighed, pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, "Physically, the effects of DVT trump the underlying conditions. We're talking about an alternative to blood thinners here. It's experimental, but the result could possibly inhibit necrosis, detect embolism? From a medical standpoint—"

"From a medical standpoint you kill your patient, Jill…" He chuckled. "Think of it this way: here is something that may or may not get rid of your DVT. At what cost you ask? Oh nothing really, just total heart failure. Come, roll the dice."

I looked down with a small grin, fiddling with the ballpoint pen between my fingers. "I did say that its success rate was low, I didn't say it was improbable…remember?" Then, I glanced back up to him.

"Weren't you supposed to be replicating the anthrax cultures?" He asked humorously.

I uncrossed my legs and stood from the roller stool, making my way to the back of the lab. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the finished cultures from their tubes, bringing them back to the table. When I set them down he looked up to me with a humorously impassive guise.

He dryly said, "You finished replicating the anthrax cultures…"

"I finished replicating the anthrax cultures." I spoke over him swiftly, unable to wipe the smile off my face as I sat down again.

"You are an absurdly hard worker. Do you even sleep?" He chuckled.

I may have actually blushed at that compliment. I always get a bit flustered when people notice how hard I work, or notice me at all. Sometimes, I actually feel that I don't work hard enough…that I could do even better. I like to push my limits, but unfortunately it tends to reflect in my health and people worry—mostly my family.

I laughed once, my eyes finding the ceiling. "I can sleep when I'm dead. For now, there's sickness at hand." I pointed to the tray with my pen. "Could you double-check them for me?"

He was already pulling a pair of latex gloves on. He slid the tray closer and began sorting through them one by one, placing the samples beneath the microscope. "What's the prognosis?" He asked after a while, still looking down the rubber tubes.

"So far no signs of mutation—I've applied the deterrent just in case." I nodded, my mouth twisting. I was a bit anxious, but at the same time I was so confident this time around. I'd been extremely careful, and if I'm being honest the chances of recession were lessened in lieu of new found information from he-who-shall-not-be-named.

"Theodore Grey." Arthur said suddenly, almost as if he read my mind. My eyes slowly drifted up to him as he lifted his head from the microscopes viewers. My mouth had to have been hanging open because I felt air hitting the back of my throat and coughed from the dryness.

"Sorry," He said, a remorseful look on his face. "I guess I caught you off guard there. Context." He said, brows turning in.

Is that a migraine? I can feel it a-comin'. No. I don't want to even think about thinking about that monster.

"I uh…I recognized him immediately." Arthur explained. All the blood rushed out of my face. "Don't worry, I won't say anything. It's just, he's… _really_ famous in this city. I'm surprised no one else knew who he was. He's surprisingly…intense."

"Oh god," I whined, removing my glasses and trying to rub my tired eyes without getting any mascara in them. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, did he?"

Arthur opened his mouth a bit, then closed it, opened it again. He looked like he was unsure of what to say, like if he said the wrong thing his tongue would spontaneously combust. "Not uncomfortable… _per se_?" He chuckled nervously. "He was disgustingly polite and all, I just got this small sense of…? Hostility?"

"I am so sorry Arthur." I breathed, holding my chest with one hand. Theodore was intimidating my colleagues and I hadn't noticed at all. I tried so hard all night to avoid looking at him, block his deep voice from filling my head and driving me crazy.

"Jill don't…you don't need to apologize to me for anything." He said, a smile pulling at his mouth. "Especially not a jealous boyfriend."

 _Whoa there!_

I took a really deep breath before speaking, "Third time saying this: He's not my boyfriend. There's _nothing_ romantic going on between him and me." With a huge swipe of my hand across my neck for as much emphasis as possible.

His eyes glazed over in their sockets. I knew that look; that was the 'you're full of shit' look. I was the master of that look. "Okay." He said simply and then left the conversation hanging in the air just like that.

"Honest!" I squeaked, my eyes wide as I burned holes through him. He was clearly already done with this discussion, but I really didn't want him to have the wrong idea. Theodore and I were not a couple in any way, shape, or form.

He let out a low breath, his mouth pressing into a hard line. "Jill, I have two master's degrees and a doctorate from Dartmouth. I think it's safe to say that I'm not an idiot. Plus I'm a man, I know what marking your territory looks like, and that's clearly what he was doing the other night."

 _Holy crap?!_

"Being wrong does not equate with being mentally incapable, Arthur." I mumbled, sternly adding, "And I'm not a fire hydrant."

He face screwed up apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Hardly the moral of this story. "It's fine Arthur. If anyone should be apologizing it's me."

He wasn't looking at my eyes anymore. "What is that?"

Arthur pointed to my hand, his eyes narrowed. I looked down and identified the silver band around my pointer finger and smiled. I pulled it off and extended it to him so that he could get a better look. It was basically a ring with engravings of The Battle of Hoth from Empire Strikes back, one of my favorite movies of all time. There were small ships, snow speeders and AT-AT walkers lined across the metallic band. I'd forgotten that I still had it, found it on my dresser this morning and slipped it on without a second thought. I don't even remember where I got it from, but I've had it for years.

"Battle of Hoth." He said, his voice marking disbelief and bafflement before he focused his gaze on mine again, eyes hazy.

"The Battle of Hoth." I said gleefully, placing the ring around my finger again.

Arthur's mouth was hanging open. "You like Star Wars?" He asked flatly, as if the mere idea of it made absolutely zero sense. However the word _like_ didn't quite placate my feelings on the franchise. Most of my young life had consisted of watching every movie back to back over a hundred times easily. I'd basically been an anomaly to my family, even more so my father when one Christmas he'd asked what I wanted and I told him a vintage Lego Death Star assembled in the early 90's. I was a huge nerd for a lot of sci-fi and future novelty movies. You name it, I've seen it, but George Lucas' films held a very special place in my heart, I adored them all…even the ones I hated.

 _Cough_ Phantom Menace _Cough_

"I don't like Star Wars. I _love_ Star Wars." I nodded slowly, a small smile on my mouth.

He scratched his head confusedly and then mumbled something under his breath. I tilted my head slightly, unsure of what exactly it was that he'd said and chose not to press it. Instead, I gave him a polite smile before resuming my work once again.

I was basically done for the day, but as a substitute for returning to my parent's house and possibly facing the scrutiny or lack thereof from my recently weirdly softened father, I chose to stay and dive head first into the unknown. What I'm working on may just be an excuse to avoid facing my problems, but it was still interesting and possibly going somewhere. Where? I've no clue. No one in their right mind would actually buy the drug if I even managed to stabilize and bottle it—too many side effects.

I assessed the shift in mood from my father involuntarily. It wasn't simply that he'd changed from being really mean to a little less mean—he'd completely transformed into something I've never witnessed. I could tell that there was a warmth to him now, and I knew it was because of mom—it had to be.

As a child, riddled with ignorance and scars from head to toe because of how outrageously adventurous I was, I'd been blinded to the fact that although my dad is inexplicably cruel towards nearly everyone, when he looked at my mom…he was simply a different man. Masked with the trepidation of a past where I could only see my father looking down at me with cold and judging eyes, I'd missed how they'd shift when they set on my mother.

But I wasn't a child anymore, and with mom back practically from the dead, the subtlety was no longer hanging between his closed off features. Ever since she's returned home from the hospital the emotion has hardly left his eyes. It was within every touch, every lingered hug, every laugh she'd let out and cause his eyes to widen in wonder and fascination.

He loved her.

My chest swelled at the thought. Of course he loved her. He may be cruel towards his children at times, but that was mostly due to the Irish rebellion within us passed on from our mom which drives him insane more often than not. However, this is the woman who has been with him since day one. When he barely had a dime to his name, when they lived in a run-down apartment and couldn't make ends meet. He'd stymied and download his insecurities onto her, and she always opened her warm arms and made sure he held his head high through all of it. How do you not love a woman like that?

Father was cruel by nature. He was tough, brutal, and relentless—it's the reason he'd managed to procure and build a billion dollar construction empire from the ground up out of scrap metal and pipe dreams. While his old boss was riding him to work endless hours, plotting structures and designs until his hands blistered and turned red.

I'd looked up at my mother with horror in my tone as I asked, "Daddy did all that?"

He's a warrior. It's simply the way he is.

 _But that doesn't make his coldness hurt any less._

I shook the petty thoughts away with a ferocity. I'd accepted this all a long time ago, and for the most part I didn't need the mush. His attitude towards me is the reason why I'm tough as nails, begrudgingly hard working, and irreparably intelligent—he made me feel like if I wasn't, I wouldn't make it. It worked.

I'm snapped from my thoughts at the sound of Kelly bursting through the doorway with a panicked look on her face. It took her all of two seconds to finally lock in on me. "Jill." She whispered harshly.

I shot her a 'the heck is your problem' look as she sprinted to where I was, crouching down just beside me. The roller stool hissed as I pushed away from the table to get a good look at her. Her expression would easily suggest that she's just seen a ghost.

"Do you owe loan sharks money or something?" She asked with wide eyes.

There are no words to describe how weirded out and shocked I was by that bizarre question. I have never owed money in my entire life. I don't even own a credit card, just a bank card. And not to sound like a spoiled snooty brat, but I doubt that there is any amount of money I could ever owe that my father wouldn't pay off for me in a heartbeat, not that he's ever needed to or ever will—I wasn't that kind of person.

Kelly must have noticed how creeped out I was by her question because she elaborates on why she'd just asked it. "There's a huge, creepy guy in a black suit looking for you in the hallway." She shuddered out.

I blinked a couple of times, a small smile curving my lips. "I'm sorry, what?" She was actually going to have to say that again so that I could fully wrap my head around it.

"Who's looking for her?" Arthur asked, his face stony and tense.

Kelly shrugged and shook her head. Her hand wrapped around my wrist and she quickly peeked over the desk she was crouched under and peeked at the closed, motionless wooden door that led to the hallway.

I cocked a brow in her direction, eyeing her with humor. She looked like a nut. A complete lunatic. I resisted the urge to burst out laughing. "I'm sure it's just your imagination." I whispered, matching her hilariously low whisper. She was speaking to me like we were in an attic while Nazi's surveyed the house beneath us in 1950's Germany.

"My imagination? Jill, he was looking at your car in the parking lot, then he came straight into the building and right to this corridor. It has to be you he's looking for. Are you sure you didn't mess with the CIA or anything?"

"I'm a microbiologist, Kelly. Not a hacker." I said, allowing the wryness to curve through my voice as I did.

"How are you not terrified right now?" Kelly whined. She was _clearly_ more worried about this than I was, which should probably be concerning.

"Kelly…calm down." Arthur said, holding out a hand and flicking it downwards with each word.

"Bite me, Artie." She hissed. "I am calm!"

 _No she isn't._

"Okay, I'll be right back." I sighed, twisting out of Kelly's grip.

She nearly toppled over from the suddenness, reached out to grab my pant leg to keep steady. "No, Jill—I can't lose you. There's so much we haven't done together yet." She cried out.

She cannot be serious. I reached down and patted her shoulder for reassurance. "I think I'll be okay."

Arthur stood, prepared to join me. "I'll come with—"

"Seriously, I'm okay!" I assured him. I was actually pretty positive who was looking for me, and I wasn't prepared to let any of my colleagues see the exchange that would more than likely end in me screaming in frustration as I'm dumped with more nonsense.

I pulled off my lab coat and threw it on the rack before straightening my pants and heading out the door. It only took one quick turn around the corner at the end of the hall before I came face-to-chest with a big, hulking person.

My eyes drifted up and settled on a pair of dark brown eyes and I rolled my own at the way the tensed at me.

I think this guy's name is Quentin? He's Theodore's other bodyguard who'd driven me home the other day after I left his house of horrors. I also identified him as the 'other guy' from the club; the one that went to get the girl who brought us the shots. It was fairly dark that night but there was no mistaking it…same person. Same cold, dark image—no hair on that shiny head of his. Is being bald a job requirement?

He was quiet as hell and it irritated me. He didn't speak a single word, ever.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "You're scaring my co-workers."

He jerked his head back and turned around as if expecting me to follow.

… _Shit._ What the hell does he want _now_?! Why does he constantly page me as if I'm an animal?

I really didn't want to go but if Theodore sent him…which he obviously did…he'd be irate to find that I'd disobeyed his wishes, and that was not a road I was even remotely prepared to go down again. I could still feel the subtle sting from where he'd whipped me, not gently at all.

 _I didn't even hit you that hard._ Bull. Shit.

His words spark an anger from me I'd managed to bat down for the last couple of days.

 _Asshole_.

When I see him, the doubt will be eradicated. I'm going to slap him. I'll do it.

xxx

Familiar and unfamiliar roads passed by my car window, the Seattle skyline disappearing behind us bit by bit. A good twenty minute drive has left me with an irritation that I couldn't assemble into mere words…where are we even going? Am I being kidnapped right now? Is it sad that the thought of kidnapping hardly terrifies me as it should? I'm seemingly so numb to everything.

"So you just… _never_ talk?" I asked as I shrugged, my tone bored and sarcastic. "Not even a little _hum_?Ever? Singing in the shower maybe? The occasional _woohoo_?" Quentin glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn't say anything.

 _That really shook things up._

Suddenly, I heard the distinct thrashing sounds of cheers and cries for victory about two blocks down a huge, gravelly road. My eyes rounded into dinner plates as the car pulled into the gargantuan, busy parking lot outside of one of the most notorious sports center's in Seattle…Key Arena. Lights and seemingly fireworks poured out of the plate glass windows and coated the dark parking lot with white matter. The enormous silver-white building along with screams and the sound of whistles echoed through the compound and left little to be desired.

The sidewalk was packed with foregoers, those who were conversing and drinking, and even more stragglers and peddlers. It was so dark outside but the building seemed to glow in contrast to the stark night, glowing wristbands and shiny phone screens reflected the business that flowed.

 _There's clearly a game tonight._

Game of what? I have no freaking clue. I don't really follow sports.

"What's going on?" I asked confusedly, looking into the rearview mirror and Quentin.

Quentin said nothing as he pulled into one of the _Reserved_ parking spots directly in front of the arena. I noted the security guards as they checked the sticker on the windshield, indicated that he was allowed to be in said spot.

Quentin…or _Quieton,_ because he doesn't talk, got out of the car and came around to my side, pulling the door open. I stepped out and straightened my blouse before grabbing my purse off the seat. Quentin escorted me through a path where no people were bumping into each other and drinking beer, to a side entrance.

We stopped in front of a small door manned by a couple more security personnel and Quentin pulled out a ticket and a VIP pass, showing it to one of them.

The one on the right nodded his approval after checking the pass before pressing his keycard to the panel and pushing the door open for us. I was motioned to go first, so I did—probably worried that I'd run away. Which I would, but you know…heels.

My eyes squinted at the huge contrast of darkness to light as I stepped into the unfamiliar space. The concrete walls looked brand new and showed no signs of history. The singular hall was narrow and bared no openings or entrances, no signs of life either. Quentin was holding a VIP pass, so perhaps this is a special entrance, thus why no people? From the looks and erratic sounds of outside, tonight was definitely a full house.

At the very end of the long tunnel there was the tiniest suggestion of light and _deafening_ sound, and I figured that was our destination. However I still kept to Quentin's side as we walked.

I had a death grip on my purse, which was hanging off of my shoulder. I had no idea what was going to happen or why I was even here. Does this even have a thing to do with Theodore?

If before my eyes had trouble adjusting to the bit of light I was offered upon entering, the new, brightly lit space that I'd come into contact with was purely blinding. The smell of sweat and mildew perforated the heady air. The sounds of dense balls hitting the ground shook my body as the wooden floor rumbled beneath me, feet moving back and forth along the court causing my wide eyes to volley and—

 _BEEEEEEP!_

My hands flew to my ears. _The buzzer._ Crud, that shit is loud. Roars followed the sound, nearly splitting my head in two.

Whoa—so this is what Key looks like. I've never been here before. Its architecture would make father weep though, it's breathtaking. Green and yellow was all over the place, packed to the brim with eager farms sporting correlating colors, hands in the air with excitement as they cheered, belted, and howled from court to bannister. There had to be over twenty thousand people in this room right now and suddenly, I felt incredibly small.

My already tight grip on my tote turned painful and I squeezed even harder.

 _I am not a huge fan of crowds…at all._ _Period._

I'm startled when Quentin taps my shoulder, pointing to his left. I nodded and began in that direction, allowing my eyes to drift to the basketball court just as a very colorfully dressed green and yellow clad cheerleading squad made their way to the center of the court as the players left. Some unfamiliar pop music began to play and they wasted no time, dancing in the most elaborate of ways, making me wish that I could dance half as well as they were.

Well, I know what sport is playing tonight. Apparently, it's basketball.

As I walked across the rumbling shaky wooden floor with Quentin in tow, my eyes drifted all over the place. They landed on the scoreboard over my head and I tried to read what teams were playing tonight, but I couldn't read something that far away without my glasses. I'm not particularly nearsighted, it's just the letters were rather small.

"Stop." A deep, familiar voice called out. My eyes snapped down quickly and landed on the source of it.

Theodore was sat back in a folding chair, his gaze halting my trembling body in place. I stood in front of him and plotted my strategy of approach. In the car, I had over a million lines that I wanted to spit at him in regards to years of his psychotic torment. However, now that he was in front of me I was completely speechless.

How do I forget how terrified I am of him when he's not near, when I can feel it in every cell of my body when he's around? Maybe I _am_ insane. He makes me that way.

When I didn't move and continued to stare dumbly down at him his face twisted with some unspoken annoyance. He jerked his chin to the side, I'm guessing for me to sit down. He didn't speak so I turned around but Quentin had disappeared.

Job done I suppose, _delivered_ the girl.

I noted the empty seat right beside Theodore before noting the not-so-empty seat to his opposite side.

When recognition flitted through his posh features, my blood ran cold. "Pierce?" Liam _fucking_ Dreyfus, another small dot on the coronal plane of my suffering was sitting adjacent to where I stood, looking up to me like I was an anomaly.

I looked away before quickly lowering myself into the seat beside Theodore. That didn't help because Liam leaned forward and waved a hand at me. "Yo? Do you not remember me?"

Since Theodore was leaning back, it was easy for his beady, nearly black eyes to meet mine. He looked bizarrely happy to see me, like I was some old friend he was rekindling with after years. The mere thought of that made my stomach churn. I wanted so badly to glare at him but wisely chose against it, positioning my attention forward instead.

 _Do I remember you? Yes I do, but I wish that I didn't._

This man was as much of a sociopath as Theodore, possibly even more so! I didn't even want to think about all the horrible things that accompanied my memories of him. The scumbag—just a wolf in sheep's clothing. I tried keeping my gaze locked on the cheerleaders as they wrapped up their routine.

 _WHY am I here?_ I don't know the first thing about basketball. I want to go home.

I chanced a look over to Theodore, ignoring Dreyfus' attempts at catching my attention, surely enough he was looking right at me. He wasn't even trying to pay attention to the beautiful half-naked women jumping around on the court, his eyes were stoic and unwavering.

Out of nowhere he said. "Shut the fuck up, Liam. You're pissing me off." But his stare didn't move from my face. He was studying me carefully, up and down, eyes raking over my body, committing my entire being to memory.

From the corner of my eye I saw Dreyfus flash an offended face. "Someone's snippy all of a sudden." He cackled and then brought a Corona to his mouth before taking a sip. I expected him to say more or protest but he focused on the court once again, leaving Theodore to continue his silent scrutiny over me unhinged. My brows scrunched together and my gaze fell to my lap.

What does he _want_?!

When I woke up this morning the last thing I'd expected to be doing is sitting courtside at a packed basketball game. I had a better chance of walking out of school and being stampeded by an elephant.

I don't really hate basketball, I just don't freaking understand it. The only sport I even _kind of_ get is baseball, and even with that game, by the 6th inning I'm shaking my head in confusion and nodding off. Anyway, with basketball…there's a point guard, right? Then there's a receiver, linebacker? Or is that football?

 _My head hurts._

"What are you wearing?" Theodore asked suddenly.

I looked at him like he was insane, flatly replying with "Excuse me?"

"Why must I constantly repeat myself with you? Are you hard of hearing?"

 _Ass._ "No, I just don't understand your question. Are _you_ hard of seeing?" I bit back, rolled my eyes.

Theodore leaned in so close that hip lips were just a breath away from my ear. "Don't piss me off Jillian, because I'm not above dragging you out of this arena, taking you to the green room and fucking you over the hors d'oeuvres table until you're screaming my name."

My core flooded with moisture at the sounds of his harsh, whispered words drifting through my ear, filling my head. I clenched my thighs, squeezed my eyes shut, bit down on my tongue until I was sure I'd draw blood.

 _Jillian, you don't want that—you don't want him._

I tried, "I thought you hated it when I said your name."

"I'll make a pre-coital exception." He gritted sarcastically.

 _Oh boy._

I took a deep breath and willed my hammering heart to slow down. "Just some things that Penny picked out for me. I'm trying to mix up my wardrobe a little bit."

He didn't respond immediately, "The way you dress is fine."

 _Typical._ "Hence why I'm trying to mix it up." I grumbled.

"No, you idiot—" Theodore grabbed my chin with one hand, twisted my face to meet his. "I said the way you _dress_ is fine, meaning the way you normally do. There's nothing wrong with what you usually wear. Get it?"

My voice was soft as I said, "Everyone tells me that I dress like a 1920's chamber maid." Not in those words exactly, they tend to beat around the bush, usually.

The corner of Theodore mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. It was almost one, though. "You dress like you."

The swelling in my chest accompanied by the hollowness that I felt when his hand left my face was as unforeseeable as it was unwelcome. Why would he say that to me? Was it to make me feel better so that he could stomp me down immediately after? With Theodore no compliment came without a snide remark. That simply wasn't of his nature. I wasn't going to fall privy to his bizarre advancement.

Instead of lashing out, I played his little game, offering only "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment, but okay."

 _Unbelievable._

"Why are you so passive aggressive?" I huffed.

He cocked one of those arrogant eyebrows and my blood boiled at the sight of it. " _I'm_ passive aggressive? Have you even met yourself before?"

"Just because I am doesn't mean that you aren't." I seethed. I know that I'm passive aggressive, it's basically one of my few talents. I approach everything in my life no matter how complicated and tragic with at least the tiniest glimmer of deadpan humor. If I didn't, I would have broken down ages ago. "Also, just because you _don't mind_ the way that I dress, that doesn't mean that I particularly love it. So while your _not_ compliment is completely unneeded, it's also irrelevant."

"I can have an entire wardrobe mocked up for you then."

My mouth went cotton dry at that declaration and I shot him a look that would have suggested he'd sprouted wings. "Why…why would you do that?"

He gave me a dead in the eyes look. "If you're going to change the way you dress, it should be something that doesn't make me want to burn Nordstrom to the ground."

I clenched my teeth together, and before I had a chance to rethink the stupid spur of the moment decision it busted out of my mouth messily. "Why are you such a fucking prick to me?"

For the first time ever, instead of Theodore's gaze darkening with anger…it flitted with amusement. "Are you high?"

Didn't see that coming. I anticipated him getting angry…I wanted him to. I wanted him to be mad. Gone was the girl who has since 6th grade jumped through hoops to avoid him, done everything in her power to keep his anger at a tolerable level. I would never in my wildest dreams imagine saying half of the things I have recently, a few years ago. However, something had changed in me, possibly the dawning realization that no matter what I did he would always hate my guts. I was ready to let go of that gnawing compulsion to make keep him from exploding. I wanted to encourage it now, but damned if I wasn't scared shitless anyway.

I held my chin high, praying to the good Lord above that I sounded confident when I said, "If I am, hopefully it's not because you stuck me with something."

"It was just a little joke…" He said lazily. Apparently, providing sexual favors on a person while they're intoxicated is all the rave in comedy now-a-days.

"You're going to rot in hell, Theodore Grey." I promised.

I tried to keep the trembling at a minimum as he pressed his chest into my arm, placed his hand on the chair behind my back and leaned into me so that we were so close I could almost taste the heat from his body.

"I know that I will." He said so quietly that I could just barely hear him over the loud thundering happening on the court. "I'm a sick fuck and I have more sins than I can count on both hands. And you're just so fucking pure, right? Just looking into those wide, ignorant eyes of yours makes my skin crawl. The worlds not always sunshine and butterflies Jillian, it's filled with things so disgusting and vile, monstrosities that you couldn't even begin to imagine. But I can assure you that there's no greater danger to you than _me_."

 _What the fuck?!_

My eyes were trained in front of me, but I could just barely see anything. The players had resumed their positions and the referee stood between two towering men before tossing the basketball as high as possible, allowing the game to begin. I didn't see which side of the court the ball favored. My vision blurred, my hearing becoming a coalition of muffled rustling. I was catatonic.

 _There's no greater danger to you than me._

Why do I believe him with everything inside of me? I already know, that's why. No one has the power to hurt me like he has and I can't imagine anyone ever being able to again. He was a horrifying human being in every way. I don't know who hurt him, how they hurt him but I knew at that moment for certain—someone had fucked Theodore up beyond repair. He was broken and mangled to all hell and it reflected in every syllable he spit my way, every action.

Listening and paying attention to the rest of the basketball game was out of the question. I was stock still for the remainder, my gaze trained on my feet. There were so many unspoken words flowing through my mind and I ached to string them into thoughts, but it was in vain.

Dreyfus spoke animatedly to Theodore about the progression of the game with more shouts and curses than I was personally comfortable with, but he barely attempted to speak to me again which was relieving. I don't think I would have been able to handle another obsessive douchebag at the moment, I was just barely managing the one I couldn't seem to get rid of.

xxx

The car ride home was thankfully quiet. When the game ended we were barraged by people with cameras at the front gate of the arena, all of them were asking who I was and why I was with Theodore. I kept my head low as Quentin pulled out of the parking lot, using my bag to cover my head as the camera flashes continued to pour in.

I never even realized how famous he was, but then again—Grey's. They are unusually popular, that family, and I've no idea if it's because of their beauty, their money, or the fact that they are avid socialites. Either way, that kind of attention makes me gag. I'm like my father when it comes to privacy, I revel in it.

"Where are we going?" I asked with a panic in my tone. The direction we were heading was not the one to my home. Theodore had taken his own car along with his _buddy,_ so I was alone with Quentin yet again.

 _Silence._

I glanced out the window again and saw the ocean passing beneath us, immediately recognizing the path. I'd been so caught up in my own thoughts I didn't even notice until it was too late. Quentin pulled to a stop in front of the familiar mansion and quickly got out, coming over to my side to open the door for me.

I glared up at him and made no attempts to move from my seat. "This isn't my house. Take me home." I demanded. His jaw clenched, but I wasn't budging. I was not going in that house.

Seconds ticked by and the big guy was clearly becoming annoyed. He pulled out his phone and began typing something. Then, he closed my door again and waited outside of it.

"Just take me home already!" I groaned, knocking on the window. "This is kidnapping!"

About a minute later and a car that I knew all too well pulled into the driveway behind the SUV. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in a huff.

 _Brilliant._

I kept my gaze fixed on the back of the seat as the door opened again. This time, it followed with an immediate, and intimidating voice. "Am I going to have to drag you out of there?"

Without hesitation, I unclicked my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Theodore was so close to the door that my chest practically flushed against him as I righted myself, and he didn't even attempt to step away to give me space. Instead, he pressed even closer to me, using the roof of the car to steady himself with one hand. Gosh, he was way bigger than me. I tried not to notice how the muscles of his arms flexed as they peeked out from the sleeves of his black t-shirt, that wouldn't help the aching already there. My nipples were not hard as pebbles right now, no siree. His warm, hard body definitely didn't feel good pressed against mine. Nope.

I turned my face away to avoid his steady gaze, brought my arm up and placed it just below his neck, between his collarbones and pushed lightly. "You make me claustrophobic. Mind stepping back about…twenty yards?" I lied.

He turned his head slightly, looking out to the clear blue ocean that sat just below the cliff his house was located on. "Twenty yards backwards would be in the ocean." He said amusingly.

"What luck?" I sighed.

"You're so mean to me." He chuckled, and I felt it—God did I feel it in my tummy. He was pressed into me so ridiculously close.

"I seriously just want to go home, please. I have things to do tomorrow." I begged.

"Whatever you need to do, you can do it from here."

"I'm not having sex with you." I seethed.

"That sounds like a _you_ problem."

I laughed once. "A _me_ problem? What is? Being raped?"

Finally, I could see the something other than impassivity flash across Theodore's face, but I couldn't catch it because it disappeared just as quickly as it came. He stepped away, a good two feet, and my entire body broke into goosebumps at the darkened, hateful expression that marred his features.

 _Oh no._

He pointed over his shoulder. "Get inside."

"I—"

He cut me off swiftly. "Don't say another fucking word. I don't want to hear your voice, and I don't want to see your face. Get the fuck out of my sight." His voice was so low, so quiet. It scared the living shit out of me.

I put my head down and began up the driveway to the front door. When I get upstairs to the prison cell he shoved me in the night before, I lock the door and jump into the bed, pulling the covers over my head. I whispered for the morning to come quickly.

xxx

I sat up in bed with a huge breath of air at the sound of a door unlocking and opening. I pulled the covers over my body though I was fully clothed in what I'd worn yesterday. The woman, clad in the most stunning dress suit I'd ever seen with my bare eyes smiled widely at my distraught appearance. I'm sure I looked like crap right about now. I could feel the dried drool around my mouth.

"Good morning! Charmed!" She came over to the bed and extended a hand out to me. "I'm Valerie, Mr. Grey's personal stylist." I took her hand warily and shook it out of sheer politeness, but I was undoubtedly confused and creeped out. The blond haired, blue eyes lady glanced over her shoulder immediately after she retrieved her hand from me.

Behind her trailed a shorter, pudgier lady with a silver rack in tow. The rack had an assortment of dresses, blouses, and skirts—all shiny, monochrome, sleek and expensive-looking.

The lady clapped her hands together and took a deep breath. Her smile was infectious, and her beauty was understated. I really like people who are smiley all the time, and boom—loved her for no reason already. "Alright Miss, shall we get started?"

My already wide eyes widened even further. "Started?" I asked, my morning voice raspy and distant.

"With your wardrobe, of course. I'll need to know what your preferences are before I can issue a full collection for you." She went over to the rack and began picking various things and holding them at an arm's length.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my fingers to my temples. "Hold on—wait. I don't remember asking for a…collection?"

"Mr. Grey was very clear, miss." She began, but I stopped her with a wave of the hand.

"Tell him I'm fine!" I seethed. I didn't need new clothes, I'd literally just gotten new ones the other day and I was still getting used to them. Plus, those clothes looked way too expensive and luxurious for my personal taste.

She ignored me, balancing a pair of red dress slacks and a silk black top. "I think these would look nice. Oh—how did you like the jeans and top that I laid out for you last time? Were those alright?"

"Wait a second…you were the one who set those clothes out for me?" I grumbled, pointing at her. You know what? Irrelevant. "How long have you worked for him?"

"About five years now." She came over to the bed and laid out the clothes in her hand before snapping over her shoulder. "Esther, bring me those matching pumps."

The brunette scurried over to the box beneath the rack, fishing out a pair of stunning black suede pumps and bringing them over to the bed.

The blond looked at me expectantly. "How's this?"

I looked at the ensemble. It was nice looking, but too shiny for my taste. "Not my style." I said dryly.

"Would you prefer something more matte?" She asked.

I shook my head. Matte? The hell is that? "Come again?"

"How do you feel about bright colors? Stand up for me?" She bombarded, wrapping a hand around my arm and pulling me out of bed swiftly. I wanted to protest but my mind was already running at a hundred miles per minute from all of her questions. Added to that was the drowsiness that clouded my sense of reasoning. I was never the sharpest after just waking up, and this situation wasn't helping to soothe my scattered brain.

She spun me around quickly taking in my outfit from yesterday before asking, "How do you feel about plaid?"

"Indifferent…?" I mumbled.

She nodded at that before turning around and heading back to the rack, "Esther take her measurements."

Esther…came up and began wrapping a thin strand of measuring tape around every inch of my body until she was satisfied. "I feel violated."

 _I didn't really, but sarcasm was a good coping mechanism._

The blond laughed at that, her eyes glowing. "You're funny."

What did she say her name was again? I didn't catch it, and I was feeling increasingly bad about it. "Victoria?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

"Valerie." She corrected with a chuckle. She held up a stunning beige skirt to my waist. I am not a fashion savvy person, but I know for a fact that is stylish. And it didn't look flashy either, it was understated and still feminine.

I cleared my throat, begrudgingly admitting "This is nice."

Valerie looked up at me with so much hope. "Do you like this one? Me too."

She placed the skirt on the bed and Esther came up behind her with an off white ruffle blouse that was equally as gorgeous. "Why don't you try these on? They may be a bit loose because we could only guestimate your measurements, next batch will be a perfect fit. For now, we'll just adjust whatever doesn't fit correctly." She took a hanger that Esther extended to her which had a pair of black designer lingerie on it before offering it to me.

 _This was all just too much._

"Don't you have anything a little less…dominatrix?" I asked hopefully.

Her eyes widened and the laugh that escaped the back of her throat almost… _almost_ made me laugh along. "I'll keep that in mind next time! For now this is the only pair that I brought along. You're about a 34D correct?"

 _How the_ fuck _does she know that?_

Another stupid question. I didn't protest as I took the clothes into the attached bathroom to get changed, but not before a quick shower.

xxx

Theodore was heading out the front door when I got to the bottom of the stairs. Where the hell is he going now? Does he ever sit still?! He was wearing a perfectly fitting charcoal suit and I watched in awe as he pulled his dress shoes on with ease, tapped the tip of the shoe against the floor, making sure they were snug before tying them.

"Hey!" I squeaked out, covering my mouth immediately after. His eyes snapped up to me and the calm expression he'd had turned lifeless and dark.

"Jesus Christ…" He whispered, his face twisted in confusion and disgust at the sound.

"What is your goal here?" I asked as I stormed up to him. He didn't spare me another glance, instead opening the front door and slamming it behind him. Wow, asshole.

I pulled the door open and stomped after him all the way to the driveway. "Why do you keep bringing me to your house? Why are you giving me clothes? What is going on with you? Are you losing your mind?"

 _No response._

Parker held the door to the SUV open and Theodore made like he was about to get in. "Theodore!" I yelled.

I haven't called his name in weeks. I was too fucking scared to because the last time I did he kicked me into a river, but today there was no river, only the ocean—and he wouldn't dare kick me for a fifty foot ledge and into there.

Theodore turned around and in my haste I bumped face first into his chest. I pushed away and looked up at him with as much determination as I could…which wasn't a lot.

"What do you want?" He asked calmly, not making any comments about me using his name.

"What do _I_ want? What do you want? That's all I've ever wanted to know! What is it that you want from me?! What do I have to do to be rid of you forever?!" I screamed, the tears threatening to flow once again.

"You're never going to be rid of me because I've already let you go once and it was the biggest mistake of my fucking life! You're not going anywhere!" He yelled back and I'll be damned if I didn't notice the way his breath faltered as he did.

I didn't know what just happened, and I didn't want to know either, because if someone explained it to me I would laugh and then probably die. It was as if the sky had come falling down, the universe contracting into a spherical ball and offering such secrets of sin that I could never in my wildest dreams fathom. What the actual heck had he just said to me? It was surreal. Was this a dream? No. I couldn't even _dream_ something this farfetched.

I stared as Theodore ran both hands through his hair and noted the way his chest rose and fell, no doubt due to how loud he'd just been yelling and possibly for another reason. His expression was torn, but guarded—eyes were marking a disbelief and confusion I didn't understand. One thing was certain though…what he'd just said to me…it clearly slipped out on accident. He looked completely and utterly shocked at his own words but did a really good job at hiding it.

I shrugged and slowly asked, "So…what? You missed me? Because if so, you have a really funny way of showing it. You've done nothing but demean me since I've been back, like you always did."

"Who said I did?"

"So then tell me what you mean by that! Because if you don't, I can't understand." I breathed, holding a hand to my chest. "I want to understand, I really do."

His eyebrows scrunched together. "Why?"

"Because I want to help you? Because I don't want you to be in pain anymore."

"You think I'm in pain?" He asked dryly and the sick, twisted smile that curved his mouth made my blood run cold. He was so cruel in every way. "I'm fine." He shrugged.

 _Liar!_

"I've seen nothing but pain in your eyes since the day I _met_ you. And I _ONLY_ see it when you look at me! Can you imagine how traumatizing it is to live with that kind of a burden, especially as a child?! What did I do that hurt you so much?"

His face fell then, going completely blank. He shook his head microscopically. "You don't know what you saw the first time you saw me. You don't know anything."

"Then help me to! Tell me what I can do. Please." My voice broke at the last word, and I didn't bother to wipe away the angry tears that fell down my face.

"You want to fix me? You think I'm broken."

"I think we're all a little broken and there's no shame in that. I'm willing to let it go if you can give me reason to. I'd be more than willing to forgive."

"I've done nothing but hurt you and you still come back. You run away finally, but then you come back again. Then you look up at me with the fucking eyes and tell me that you can forgive me? Have you just conveniently forgotten about everything that I've done to you? Forgotten just like—" He stopped suddenly and I held my breath for what was to come next. He closed his eyes and I watched as his pained expression forced its way into an impassive one.

"I haven't forgotten the past, Theodore. The past is the past and I understand that. It's what has made me who I am, and I wouldn't change the person I've become for anything." I reached out with a shaky hand and pressed it right to his chest, over his heart. It was beating so fast. "But you, you're still there. Something is keeping you in the past. You're _hurting_. I don't want you to hurt anymore…" I sobbed quietly.

When I looked up at Theodore he was looking at me with an unreadable expression. I couldn't decipher the quietness of his demeanor, couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

He was again giving me nothing, bottling everything up—not divulging anything. That's how Theodore was…he was a man of few words, a man of action. Quiet, crazy smart, calculating, methodical. He would never let me see him visibly fall apart, so he was trying his best to bring it back together before things got too real. I could tell.

"Is this just what you do? You make women feel like they're trash and get a kick out of it for a while? Is this a hobby of yours?"

His eyes flashed with a rage I recognized and feared all too well, nostrils flared as he closed the small distance between us with a single step. My neck craned up to meet his deep, fathomless icy orbs. It was like looking into the abyss.

He fisted my hair when I attempted to look away and forced my eyes back to his again. I felt so helpless.

"There's no one. No one does to me what you do. No one ever has, and no one _ever_ will. _Only_ you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **10 Years Ago…**

I clutched my backpack, squeezing tightly until the two straps nearly overlapped at the middle of my chest. My feet were glued to the floor as I stood in place, unmoving. I cast my glance forward with wide eyes, not even bothering to mind the screeching of my adolescent peers as their muffled conversations came raining into the sealed, deafening classroom.

"Eh?" I asked, my voice cracking, exploding like a firecracker inside of my desiccate mouth. I was almost entirely certain that I'd misheard.

Mrs. Finks' puffy cheeks wiggled when she readjusted in her squeaky chair. I clenched my teeth at the unearthing sound of it as I struggled to stay focused.

"The best I can give you is a B+." She repeated, confirming that I was not in fact, losing my hearing.

I took a small step away from her chipped, faded wooden desk where I'd been firmly plated. "I don't understand…"

She gave me a remorseful look, but it didn't help to quell the anger and devastation that bubbled at the bottom of my belly. "Jillian you're an excellent student—"

"Apparently not if I'm only receiving a B." I interjected.

"B+ sweetheart, it's basically an A…"

My already wide eyes widened even further. "No it's not. An A is an A, a B is a B. Mrs. Finks…I've worked my butt off for this class—you're only giving me a _B?!_ "

She shrugged, and as she did the cat broach on her collar dinked against her chain-linked earrings. What is up with this lady and her novelty jewelry?! She always dresses like she just lost a bet.

"You have done really well, but your final project, the baby model grades for itself. According to the doll, your parenting was only 87% satisfactory—that's a high B. Honestly, I was surprised as well…you actually scored lower than a majority of the entire class."

What a horrible end to an already horrible week. My eyes squeezed shut and I clenched my teeth so hard I was sure they'd crack.

 _That stupid freaking doll._

For our final project in home economics, we were given a robot baby doll to take care of. The doll had the most basic of needs: food, water, and comfort. The food and water part was a walk in the park, but when it came to comfort, every single time I was stumped!

Horror floods me as flashbacks of being awake all night in my room for the last week with a crying bundle of soft plastic resurfaces. Father was livid, but mom wouldn't stop laughing…only ominously offering 'it's a baby, not a thing.'

Irritation swirls through me—it _is_ a thing! It's a plastic robotic doll! It has no feelings.

I couldn't figure out why it wouldn't stop crying and finally deduced that my doll was defective. There was so no other reasonable explanation! I had done everything correctly, read the instructions front to back a hundred times, and put all of my time and energy into keeping that stupid little silicon poop monster happy. Instead of gratitude, like any normal living thing would offer you for treating them well, all it gave me was more screeching.

Yeah…I definitely don't want kids. No sir, no thanks. Wham, blam—thank you, ma'am.

"Mrs. Finks," I began, my voice refusing to be steady as I pushed the anger down. "I don't think that such a biased project should be reflective of my entire grade. I've maintained a solid A+ all semester. I don't see how this is fair?"

"It was already made clear that the project would be worth more than 75% of your grade, Jillian. For you it was a huge downfall, but for other students who were behind? It brought them all the way up to a B, for some even an A. It was a fairly simple project, which is why I put so much weight onto it."

This couldn't be happening. I have never received anything less than an A as a final grade in my entire life. I know that may draw me as a bit of a perfectionist freak, but I don't care. My older brother is super popular, my older sister crazy fashionable, and even my baby brother is a musical genius…he's so good at the piano even though he hates doing it. Being perfect in school is all I have, it's the one thing that separates me from my siblings—the one thing I excel at more than any of them.

 _I'm being dramatic, you say?_

Even one grade point below perfect is considered a failure to me. I won't accept anything less than perfect, because intelligence is all I have.

I glanced over my shoulder to the still busy hallway, watching as my peers flitted past the glass window in the door, heading to final period. "There's has to be something that I can do."

"You have a weighted 4.8 GPA, Jillian. Your GPA is so high that you could not come to school for an entire semester, come back, and it would still be higher than 99.9% of the entire student body. Do you mind explaining to me what it is about this one measly grade that is so detrimental to you?"

I was beginning to panic now. "It starts with one B, then it's two, then it's three—and the next thing I know I don't get into Notre Dame!"

Mrs. Finks leaned back in her squeaky chair that made my teeth hurt, covering her face with one hand at my outburst. "Jillian…I'm not failing you, dear. It's only a B. Most kids would kill for that."

"I'm not most kids." I said simply.

She stared at me for a moment, worried the inside of her cheek as she thought before finally saying, "I'll make you a deal."

I leaned in closer as the hope of a better day surged through me. "A deal?"

"I can offer you extra credit—"

"I'll do it!" I said swiftly.

She held up her hand to quiet me, "Let me tell you what it is first." She said. I didn't care what it was—I'd do it. If it guaranteed me an A, I wouldn't hesitate.

"The school fair is coming up, I'm sure you know that…" Of course I know that. East Lakeside High has a school fair at the end of every year. The fair includes carnival worthy attractions that revolve around the fundraising towards the charity of choice. I think this year its Child's Play or something? All proceeds will go towards them.

It's never really interested me, though. I'm a junior now, and I don't have time or interest for such things. College entrance exams are just around the corner, and I have my sights set on some of the best universities in the country. I need to be at the top of my game and ready for the stiff competition.

She continued, "One of the food booths happens to be short staffed due to a shortage of volunteers. As a result, I'm in need of one more pair of hands. If you'd be willing to volunteer at the fair tomorrow evening, I would be more than willing to compensate for all the points you lost for your final."

I had nothing to do tomorrow. Debate, physics club, botany club, mathletes, and business leaders clubs had concluded for the year so my weekends were totally free all summer. I also didn't have work tomorrow either, much to my dismay.

Let's see…being outside on a Saturday, surrounded by sweaty teenagers crammed in a food booth serving strangers, all for about 1 grade point? Do I really have so little purpose in my life?

"I'll do it." I repeated, extending my hand for her to shake.

She took it and shook. "You know, there are more important things than being Valedictorian, Jillian."

 _Nothing that mattered to me?!_

"Like what?" I asked as I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

She just stared at me for a long stretch. "You're an anomaly, dear…"

My nose scrunched up at that comment. What is she talking about? I'm an anomaly? How? "Okay…" I grumbled.

xxx

"Rule number…ah…eleven!" Augustus Simon yelled as he passed in front of me for the hundredth time, carrying a pot in his skinny arms. "You spill something, you clean it up."

"I get it okay…at this point you're just making rules up as you go. Can you just assign me somewhere already?" I muttered.

Augustus glared at me. "Why are you even here, nerd? Don't you have a geek seminar or something?"

I ignored that comment. "What do you need me to do?"

He pointed to the grill inside of the black and red striped fabric booth, tucked just between two other brightly colored huts in the grass.

"Talk to Declan, he'll give you your duties. Now piss off, you're bothering me. And try and stay out of everyone's way, huh?" Augustus disappeared behind the booth again.

We were just outside of the baseball field of our school and the fair had only just begun. The hot, evening air blistered above my head, bringing regret that I'd decided to not wear any kind of sun visor or cap today. I watched as other students skipped past me on the grass, not even paying mind. They laughed and spoke about all the things they were going to do here and how much fun it would be.

It had never even crossed my mind to attend the school fair before, I'd never even seen it until this year. Needless to say…it was amazing. It looked like a real, authentic carnival and not a school fair. There were rides, concessions, and games as far as the eye could see. I looked down the wide expense of booths that lined the baseball field and took in all the hard work that went into it all.

I ducked my head into the hut, immediately spotting Declan Dunn pouring some white stuff onto the grill and watched as it fried. He plucked it off and then threw it into a deep fryer. I recognized that shape—they were funnel cakes.

 _I love funnel cakes._

Looking around the small space I took in the absence of other life. "Piggy?" Declan said, pointing his spatula in my direction.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Augustus told me you have work for me to do."

"Ah…Mrs. Fatty making you do extra credit?" He asked as he leaned against the wooden board beside the grill.

"No one is making me do anything…" I muttered. "Just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it." I wanted this experience to come and go as quickly as possible. Mrs. Finks said that if I worked for at least three hours, she'd give me the extra credit. It's a no-brainer. I'd just keep my head down, do as I'm told, and then call my brother to pick me up. No amount of snide comments and mean glares was going to deter me from getting through this day.

Declan's muddy green eyes raked down my form and then back up again and I shuddered at the disgusting feeling that accompanied his lingering stare. He pointed to the counter in front of us and said "You just take orders. We only serve one thing here," He pointed back to the already made funnel cakes, "So it should be easy enough for you Piggy."

"That's it? You just want me to take orders?" I asked, surprised. This would be a lot easier than I thought.

"Unless I need a hand back here, which is unlikely. Take the orders, take their money, put it in the cash box, give them a funnel cake. Rinse, repeat." He explained dryly and then turned back around.

I stood in front of the long counter and noted the small box underneath. "Do I put the money in here?" I asked, holding the gray security box up.

"Yep. Key is in the lock." He tossed over his shoulder.

I placed the box back down and turned around, looking out as civilians and students passed by with tickets in their hands.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fished it out.

 **Penny: Where are you?**

 **Me: I already told you, I'm doing the fair thing today. ):**

 **Penny: I know that, I'm asking you where you are! I've been looking all over the place for you.**

I looked around a bit, taking in my surroundings before typing again.

 **Me: I'm nudged between the bumper cars and the bungee cord ride.**

 **Penny: HERE I CUM!**

I snorted at the screen before stuffing the device back into my pocket.

Not even a minute later I see shiny dark locks flying past my counter. She stopped and turned around, slapping her hands against the metal surface, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Gigi!"

"Nini." I said, mocking her ear breaking screech. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with Harry tonight."

Harry appeared seemingly out of thin air and wrapped his arm around Penny's shoulder. "We are, more or less." He said tiredly. I could tell that this wasn't what he'd had in mind when he thought to take her out tonight.

My mouth scrunched over to the side. "So basically you dragged him here? Please tell me you didn't do it just to see me."

"Kay." She said, offering nothing else and confirming my suspicions.

"Penny I told you I'd be fine. I'm only here for a few hours." I sighed.

"Don't be so droll, Ziggy—I gotchu." She giggled, then extended her fist for me to bump.

 _I ignored the bump._

"I'm sorry Harry. Please don't hex me." I begged.

He laughed at that, then his face fell just as quickly. "Too late." He said.

My eyes widened until Penny slapped his shoulder. "Knock it off." She admonished.

"If you're not ordering anything…Get. _The fuck._ Away. From my BOOTH!" Augustus yelled before throwing an empty canister of powdered sugar over my head at Penny and Harry.

"Go fuck yourself, Gus!" Harry retorted and then flipped him off.

"We'll talk to you later, _mon ami_!" Penny said as they both backed away. She blew me a kiss before disappearing down the booth lane with Harry's face nudged into her neck. I sighed as I watched them, so young—so in love. Ah, young love.

I didn't really care too much about not having a boyfriend—I mean…it wouldn't be so bad to have one, I guess. Just once, to see what it's like. I probably wouldn't have much time for one even if they had any interest in me.

The most I've ever done with a guy is handshakes—I'm really good at those. I've never even had a kiss before…boys just don't seem to like me very much. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious what it would be like to have someone though. Someone to listen to me, be sweet and give me flowers, hold my hand and do cute things with like Penny and Harry.

I pretend I don't care about a lot of things lately, mostly because I have no choice. If I showed even the tiniest bit of happiness, people would try to take it from me. However, I'm not completely emotionless. I'd like to fall in love.

"Oh my Gaw, is that Piggy?"

I cringed at that familiar nickname and hesitantly looked up from the counter. That's when I blanched. Speak of the devil...and he shall appear.

Theodore Grey.

Charlotte's eyes twinkled when mine flickered from his, over to her. "I thought it was you. You seriously need to like wear a pair of pig ears or something so I can recognize you." …Egbert. She had her arms wrapped around Theodore's midsection and was holding onto him for dear life. His arm was draped over her shoulder casually as well, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at how ironically symbolic Charlotte's grip on him was right now.

This girl was crazy about Theodore, and everyone knew that he didn't like her that much. Theodore wasn't exactly a monogamous guy, he did what he wanted and who he wanted. She has been clawing onto him for the better part of our high school life, and refuses to get it through her head that he will never go out with her no matter how hard she clings to him.

"Sup fatty!" Liam yelled over Charlotte's head, waving at me.

I ignored them both, only offering "Can I get you anything?" as quietly as possible.

"What was that, bitch? You ignoring me?" Charlotte seethed. She let go of Theodore and came up to the booth to stand right in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut when her hand came up to my face and her pointer finger pushed at my forehead. "When I talk to you, you respond properly, okay?"

 _I didn't respond._

"This bitch…" She muttered, looking over her shoulder at Theodore. "Can you believe it? Maybe I should pour the grease from that deep fryer over her ugly carrot top head, then she'd listen…"

"Oooh! Do it!" Liam encouraged, pumping his fist slightly. "Do it, do it, do it!"

My eyes flickered over to Theodore, and not to my surprise he wasn't even paying attention to the exchange. His eyes were elsewhere, looking down the long line of booths at nothing in particular.

"Theo! What's up man?" Augustus lilted, coming up behind me before pushing me out of the way with his shoulder. He leaned against the metal counter and waved his hand to get Theodore's attention.

Theodore drug his gaze back over to the booth and his eyes landed right on me first, before slowly casting onto Augustus. "Hey man." Theodore said, grinning at him.

"Gus!" Liam pouted, clearly saddened by the fact that Augustus had not acknowledged him at all.

Augustus ignored him. "You guys want something? We got…funnel cakes and uh…more funnel cakes."

"Oh Teddy, I want a funnel cake." Charlotte cooed before wrapping her arms around Theodore's neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Please baby?"

 _Uhg…_

 _Someone, please chemically blind me._

Theodore looked down at her and then rolled his eyes before digging into his back pocket and pulling out a black wallet

"Oh don't worry about it. On the house man." Gus said. He reached back and grabbed one of the plates from the counter before handing it to Charlotte. She took it gleefully and sunk her teeth into one of the crunchy sides and moaned loudly.

"Thank you Gus!" She said, then looked over to Liam and Theodore. "Let's do bumper cars."

"Yes!" Liam growled, jumping up and down. Gosh, he was such a one-track minded tool.

They both began down the booth line, but Theodore stayed put for a moment. His eyes lingered on me for a bit, and I almost didn't notice the way they flickered over my shoulder, narrowed, and landed on me again. Then, without another word, he walked away.

 _That was weird._

I didn't expect him to say anything to me. He never says mean things to me while others are around—ever. It's only when he knows that no one is watching does he bully me, and he makes it count too. The staring thing wasn't new either. It was yet another thing that he did to get in my head and make me cower.

 _He terrifies me._

I prayed that I wouldn't see him again for the rest of the day, fingers freaking crossed.

xxx

I brought the empty, dirty pot to the back of the booth and placed it with the others, grimacing all the while. The carnival was in full swing at this point, and getting even busier by the second. I was only supposed to be here for three hours—it's been nearly five and Augustus won't let me leave.

 _I better get a perfect grade in that class, Mrs. Finks! A perfect grade I say!_

A towel appeared over my shoulder. I looked at it, pulled it off and held it away before glancing up. "We need a clean pot. Get on it." Augustus said.

"You want me to wash this thing? It's huge…" I whispered.

He muttered something under his breath, and it sounded exactly like what I'd just said word-for-word. "Why do you talk so quiet? How anyone can ever understand a single fucking thing you say I will never understand. Clean the pot Piggy. You can even eat the burned parts off the sides if you're hungry." He kicked the other pots by my side and I cringed and the metallic clinking that followed.

Scumbag.

I gritted my teeth and dunked the pot into the cold bucket of water. It was like ice on my fingers, but I powered through. When Augustus isn't looking, I could just slip away and call my brother to come and get me. He's back in town from college for the summer.

Mrs. Finks had already stopped a few hours ago and seen me working, telling me that I was doing well and to keep at it.

 _I've already done my time, I'm out of here._

A dark presence loomed over my back, casting a shadow over me. Warily, I turned around to find Declan standing over me with a couple of dirty spatulas in his hand.

He tossed them into the bucket I was using and said, "Those too."

"Augustus only said I had to wash this bucket…" I mumbled.

"Whaaa?" He croaked, holding a hand up to his ear. For crying out loud—I did not talk _that_ softly.

I cleared my throat a bit then tossed a glare over my shoulder. "I said, Augustus only told me to wash this." I held up the pot.

"And I'm telling you to wash those as well. Get on it. Chop-chop?" He clapped his hands and then turned to walk away.

For crying out loud, will someone please save me from this hell! I scrubbed the pot harder, but the stuff wasn't coming off of it. Uhg!

I jumped slightly when Declan crouched down beside me. I hadn't even noticed that he came back. "I'll clean the spatulas next, okay?" I said tiredly, then went back to scrubbing.

"You know I've been curious for the longest time…" Declan whispered. I turned my gaze over to him again and finally noticed just how close to me he was…uncomfortably close. I eased away slightly, my eyes wide as I stared at him like he was insane.

When he scooted closer, my mouth dropped open and I fell back and onto my butt. "Are you single?"

"Uh…what?" I whispered, my mouth dry.

"I like your face." He said, making a circle around the circumference of my head.

 _What on…what?!_

I scooted back on the grass, easing away as slowly as possible before pushing to my feet. "You're acting weird…" I whispered.

Declan stood up and came in front of me. "Oh come on…don't play dumb."

I gasped when his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me into him. "Let go of me!" I groaned, pushing against him but to no avail. "Let me go, Declan." I repeated a little louder, pushing even harder.

"You're really cute when you're scared, girl. I've always thought you were _really_ fucking cute. You know if you go out with me, I'd treat you good…" Then, my blood ran cold when he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered. "My dick is fucking huge…I'll fuck you sideways." He grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to his groin, pressing it to something hard and stiff resting against his leg beneath his jeans.

I recoiled and almost hurled, pulling my hand back and screaming in disgust.

 _Oh my god, GROSS._

"I'm not interested! Now let me go!" My voice was straining. He had me locked in his grip so tightly, and he wasn't letting up. I pushed his face away from my own with wet hands, trying to get as far away as I possibly could. "I'll tell the teachers." I threatened.

The back area was completely desolate as far as the eye could see, and hidden from the busy bustling of the front, where the fair was happening. Plus, it was fairly dark outside, no one could see over here.

All of the air left my body when he pushed me effortlessly against the back of the booth. My spine tingled with pain and I sobbed at the burning sensation that dug into it, hurt like hell. So did my wrist and when I glanced at it, I noticed a purple bruise around the skin.

"You're playing hard to get? Seriously?" He asked with disbelief.

 _You crazy person—I'm not playing anything._

I scrambled to my feet but he was already over me again, reaching for my hair. He wrapped his hands in it and pulled me up. I choked out for help, but it came out as a strained croak. His fist reeled back, and I was sure he was going to knock me out with that punch.

I held my arms up to my face and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for it, but it never came. In fact, his entire presence had seemingly disappeared from in front of me.

When I lowered my arms and opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Declan flying into the booth on the opposite side of ours. He swung once but the looming figure dodged it with ease, backing away slightly before landing a swift and sickening blow to the side of Declan's head and causing him to fall onto his back like a tree that's been cut down.

 _Holy crap._

I expected that to be the end of it—he was down and squirming, writhing in pain. But the person got down on top of him and began raining punches over Declan's head, over and over again until his face was a bloody, battered mess.

"Stop!" I screamed, falling back into the booth again with my hands over my mouth.

At the cue of my voice, the person stopped and stood from Declan's motionless body. When he turned around I nearly blanched and screamed again.

He came up to where I was curled into a ball on the ground against the booth, towering over me. I looked up at him with so much shock and confusion. The tears were still falling down my face shamelessly, and I was shaking like crazy.

His piercing, icy eyes stared down at me with fury and contempt. He looked absolutely, positively, unfathomably furious.

I cringed and whimpered when he crouched down in front of me, coming eye-level. He scanned me up and down, taking in my appearance. I noted his as well. His knuckles were bloody and tattered from pounding Declan's face in, and for some bizarre reason—it gave me an inordinate amount of satisfaction.

I brought my knees to my stomach and looked at them to avoid his gaze. "Pierce." He said, his voice soft and quiet but in this enclosed space with the sound of carnival music and laughter and chatter drifting from the far reaches of the baseball field, it seemed so loud.

I looked up at him again, but the tears flooded my eyes and blurred my vision. "Where does it hurt?" He asked. What kind of question is that? And why would he care at all what the answer is anyway?

"I'm fine…just leave me alone." I sobbed, trying to make myself small. "Go away! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!" I screamed, ripping some grass out of the ground and throwing it at him. I did it again and again until my voice was sore and my arms were numb.

He grabbed my arm and his eyes scanned over my wrist. It was red and a little purple from where Declan had been squeezing onto me. I'm a pale ginger—so I bruise really easily, and he'd been holding onto me pretty tightly.

Theodore remained impassive and calm, brushing the blades of grass from his dark t-shirt and standing. "Get up."

I curled into my knees and sobbed harder. I was so angry—angry at the whole world. I've never wanted to die so much as I did in that single moment. A moment where I felt so helpless and disgusted and violated that I could barely think straight. Not all the death threats and kicks to the gut have been as traumatizing and offensive as this moment, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear forever.

 _I hate my life. I hate myself._

 _I hate everything._

I could still feel Theodore's presence lingering over me like a dark omnipotence. "Why are you still here? Haven't you done enough to me?! Haven't you had your fun?"

"Get off the fucking ground, Pierce." He said quietly.

"Fuck you." I seethed, glaring up at him with all the hatred that curved through my soul.

He reached down and grabbed my arm before yanking me to my feet, I fought against his grip, yelling obscenities at him. I heard Declan grumble and shift on the ground behind him and my eyes widened, I had to get away from these people.

Theodore dragged me between the cacophonies of booths, all the way to the parking lot beside the field. It was dark and quiet, with only a few people coming and going.

"Let go of me, you sadistic creep. You going to laugh at me? Is this amusing to you? Go to hell!"

When we approached a dark blue Audi coupe that I recognized as his. He spun around to face me and my mouth snapped shut when I took in the amount of contempt on his face. Scary.

He jerked his head to the side. "Get in the fucking car if you want to go home. I've seen enough of you today." He said before suddenly turning around and kicking the front tire of his car. "God your insufferable! Why the fuck do you exist? _Fuck_."

Why do I exist? What a horrific question. "Why did you help me if you hate me? Why can't you just leave me to rot on my own?" I sighed, my voice soft as I wiped the tears from my warm cheeks with the back of my hand. Theodore pushed my back against the door of the car and caged me between his arms. I stopped and looked up into his clear blue orbs. They burned through me like the sun, offering so much purpose and vengeance that I nearly crumbled.

"I'll kill them all." He whispered.

"Anyone. Everyone. I don't give a fuck who they are. Every word you speak, every breath you take, every small, insignificant move. All of your thoughts, emotions, dreams and nightmares—they belong to me. If anyone threatens that I'll kill them with my bare fucking hands. If I have to burn this world to ashes before you finally understand that I will. No one can hurt you but me. No one touches you but me. You're _mine_."

I just looked up at him with wide eyes. My heart hurt so much, my head hurt even worse.

What does that even mean? I'm _his_? He's never said anything like that to me before. It's usually along the lines of 'fall into a ditch and die' or, 'you're trash/garbage and I hate you'. What are these words, and why do they send an emotion through me that I didn't even know I possessed?

There was so much pain surging through my body, but it had nothing to do with what Declan had done—that was only a small blip. There was a deep electricity within me, it burned and curdled my blood, leaving me shaky and breathless.

Whenever he was this close to me it was the emotional equivalent of being locked in a cage with a hungry lion. He regarded me with such ferocity, always, hindering my every move.

I put my head down again, hoping that would quell the burning in my tummy.

It didn't. His words resonated with me instead.

 _You're mine._

I belong to someone? Does he just want to use that as a crutch to hurt me even more? What does he want from me? What could I possibly offer him that he doesn't already have or can get from literally any girl that he wants?

The night shrouded us in a sheath of darkness, the lights from the fair behind us danced across the ground, but I didn't notice much else. I couldn't. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself. It's as if a piece of me is missing, and it claws even harder at my subconscious whenever he's close.

xxx

 **9 Years Ago…**

Math. I hate math. I'm good at it, but I can't stand it.

I tried to make sense of the numbers as they sit stagnant against the lined paper, wiping the exhaustion from my tired eyes.

 _Sin, cosign, tangent._

A hand reached out and waved across my calculus homework and reflexively, my eyes snapped up to find its host.

The girl smiled down at me, and when her mouth began to move I pulled out one of my earbuds. "What?" I asked.

"Jillian, right?" She asked. Her voice was really high pitched and it made me cringe. I could also tell that the bag she held on her forearm was designer and expensive. Everything about her reeked of money and social status. Her cherry red lips have had needles in them, and her strawberry blonde hair had clearly come from a bottle.

 _Brilliant._

"No." I said simply, lying through my teeth.

Her face twisted with confusion. "I'm pretty sure you're Jillian Pierce. I've seen you around."

I shook my head, puffed out my cheeks a bit. "Nope. Wrong person, sorry."

The girl pointed to my student ID, which was on full display right beneath my elbow. "So I guess there's another Jillian Pierce in this school?"

I shrugged, slyly adding. "Big school." And it _was_ a big school, more than five thousand students. East was the best private school in Seattle, everyone who's anyone sends their children here with the hope of success.

The girl sighed, "I'm just going to move this conversation forward—"

I pulled out my other earbud and rolled my eyes. "Look, if you're here to torment me, make it quick. I've got studying to do."

She pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down across from me—without my permission might I add. "Sure, why not." I grumbled. "I'm not _studying_ or anything…?"

"This won't take long." She assured as she dug through her backpack and pulled out a golden folder and passed it to me. I looked at the emblem on the front of said folder and sighed. "My names Katherine Feigel, and I'm with the Honor Society. I've been trying to catch up with you for weeks now. What a coincidence to find you here so late, Jillian! Can I call you Jill?"

"No." I grumbled, my face remaining stoic and flat. I didn't want this overly giddy stranger to get too familiar with me.

She seemed taken aback by that, clearing her throat to mask the surprise. "Ah, okay. Well uh, as you know, the Honor Society has been a core part of East Lakeside's legacy for nearly _thirty_ years. As a result, we only accept the brightest and most promising candidates within our ranks. After careful consideration, the committee has duly prompted to invite you to join. What do you say?"

My eyes glazed over and I unwillingly got a good look at the nearly empty library. A quick glance down at my cell phone told me that it was nearly 5PM. I began to gather all of my books and papers, closing my laptop and stuffing everything into my backpack.

When I looked back at her, she seemed shocked, as If she were expecting me to jump with joy or something. "I've already made it _very_ clear that I have no interest in becoming a part of your club. I've told Eric no, I've told Risa no—I've told Gabriel _no_. Welcome to _my_ personal club Katherine. I have T-shirts."

"E-eh?" She stuttered, an uncomfortable smile on her face. "Jillian, you're in the running to be indisputable Valedictorian for our graduating class this year. And if you accept the role, you'll be the first Valedictorian in over seventeen _years_ to not be on the Honor's Society!" Her voice was frantic. "I'm sure I don't need to reiterate the benefits of being a part of our club. The merits you'll receive? Those look pretty good on a college application."

Am I supposed to change my answer because of that? I stood and slung my backpack over my shoulders. "Answers no."

"May I ask why?!" She demanded as she stood, her squeaky voice raising even higher as she did. If the librarian were still here she would have been kicked out immediately for speaking so loudly.

"You may, but you'll get no response." I said matter-of-factly. I began to dig through my pockets for my car keys. Today has been a long and tiresome one, and I was in need of some well-deserved rest and a double cheeseburger. The order of which came first was unimportant.

Katherine blocked my way out of the library, stretching her hands across the humungous double-doors and halting me where I stood. "The school paper is doing a huge expose piece on the Honor Society's graduating class in a few days. There's a very imperative section in that piece where they interview the Valedictorian for this year. What are we supposed to do about that, huh?"

My voice was flat when I said "I find it interesting how you think that this is my problem and not yours…"

"At the very least, could you deny Valedictorian?" She squealed, stomping down her foot.

I looked at her like she was insane. "Beg your _pardon_?"

"You clearly have no interest in expunging the benefits that entail being the leading academic scholar in the entire school. You'll still have the grades, relinquish the title."

I had to take a step back. My heart felt as if it had fallen out of my chest in an instant. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening to me right now. I mean, I've had some pretty messed up things said to me over the years, even worse things done to me but _this_ takes the cake.

I bit down on my lip, prepared to give this girl as much attitude as I had in my tiny little body. "First of all, I haven't even been awarded the title yet—it's only the middle of the year."

"As if there's any chance of anyone catching up to you?! You have a solid 5.0, get real!" She threw her hands in the air, the frustration marring her features.

"I'm not forgoing my title. If the principal offers me Valedictorian, I'm taking it. If anyone wants the title, they'll have to take it from me kicking and screaming." I said with wide eyes. I haven't been working my ass off for the last fifteen years to throw it all away because a petty little rich kids club wants to do a fluff piece with the most lecherous committee in this school.

"The only one who's even _remotely_ close to your weighted is Theodore Grey, and he's sitting at a 4.87…he'll never catch up. Theodore is on the Honor's Society, if you pass for Valedictorian, he'll be asked next." She pleaded.

I shuddered at the sound of his name. "I know where he's sitting and I know he can't catch up to me. Nothing I can do to help you, Katherine. Have a nice day." I nudged my way past her.

With just a few words drifting down the hallway behind me, I'm halted in place.

"What if I can guarantee you Notre Dame?"

I turned around slowly, my sneaker squeaking against the tiled floor and leaving a black skid mark as I did. "What did you just say?"

She trotted a few steps up to me and stood her ground. "My grandfather's nephew is on the admissions committee at Notre Dame. I can call my daddy and ask him to push your application."

I narrowed my eyes at her, my hands tightening around the straps of my backpack. "How do you even know—"

"I'm Katherine Fiegel—I know things."

I laughed once as the reality finally began to set in. "You're _bribing_ me?"

She didn't respond, she only waited.

"Let me make this brutally clear. If I'm going to achieve something, I'm going to achieve it on my own merit and by being exceptional in my own way, not by having the opportunity handed to me in exchange for something so shamefully mediocre."

She seemed to ignore all of that. "I'll give you a chance to think about it. Lot of rich kids with bad grades and good connections this year at Notre Dame. I'd be doing you a huge favor Miss Pierce. And Katherine Fiegel does not do favors."

"Well, laa _dee_ daa." I grumbled as I turned and walked away.

 _Katherine Fiegel does not do favors!_ I mocked her tiny, annoying little voice in my head over and over again. So infuriating. Do I ever get a break in this school? Even when the damn building is empty, I'm still being tormented.

xxx

Mom reached across the dinner table and placed another helping of string beans on my plate. "Are you alright baby? You seem tense." She asked.

"Probably from studying too damn much." Father grumbled.

"Victor, please. Must you always be so crude?" She admonished.

He dropped his fork on the table and glared over the long table at me. "She studies too much…it's all she does. Why don't you go outside and be a teenager?"

I slumped further into my chair, aimlessly moving my food around on the plate. I wasn't really hungry anymore. "There's more than one kind of teenager, daddy." I mumbled.

"Well you're none of them." He proffered, grabbing the salt shaker from the middle of the table and icing his potatoes with it. "Most seniors are at parties and drinking. Not at the school library studying until late into the day."

I sighed, puffing out my cheeks as I did and allowing the raining lecture to wash over me like a tidal wave.

Dinner was so dreary without my siblings. When it's just mom and dad with no Blane or Jane to interject the conversation and keep the spotlight off of me, things got rough. Ever since Jane left for college last year this house has just been emptier.

Lance was on a trip with his middle school class, and they wouldn't return until next week. So I was basically left to fend the wrath of my tyrant father on my own. Not even my sweet, compassionate mother could keep his building rage at bay anymore. I could tell that he missed his oldest, and it showed. Father loved Blane, he was the favorite—his pride and joy. I was his biggest disappointment—the mistake, the child he could have done without but learned to tolerate.

"So you would prefer our seventeen year old daughter to be…driving around in the middle of the night intoxicated with a bunch of other intoxicated teenagers instead of at home, studying and minding her own business? Is that what you're telling me?" Mom asked, her tone stern.

"What are you even studying so hard for? What do you want to do Jillian?"

I quirked up a bit. "I want to be a hematologist."

"She's already explained this to us, Vic…" Mom interjected.

Father picked up his fork and pointed it at me. "Do you know the chances of you becoming a doctor, Jillian? Slim to none."

My brows turned in. "Thanks for the support." I said dryly.

"Victor!"

"Liv, I am showing our daughter the real world. This is _reality_ , and in reality she doesn't become a doctor. She loses to hundreds of kids who are better than her, and she becomes a biology teacher. _That_ is real life." I dropped my fork and stood from the table.

"I'm going to bed." I said as I tore from the dining room.

The last thing I heard before I began climbing the stairs was my mother's shaky voice. "She's just a child, Victor!"

I closed my bedroom door and bolted the lock. After a moment of silent counting I lost my will to remain calm and began punching the air with clenched fists, releasing tiny grunts from the back of my throat and resisting the urge to scream.

"Rough day?"

I spun around so quickly my knees nearly gave out and slammed my back against the door. When I finally processed where the voice had come from my eyes widened into dinner plates. I opened my mouth to scream but before I could he was on me with his hand pressed across my mouth, shushing me.

"You scream. I kill you. Blink twice if you understand." My eyes closed twice in rapid succession, and he slowly lowered his hand from my mouth.

"How did you get in my room?" I stuttered out, my voice shaky and small.

Theodore rolled his eyes and turned away, "Talent." He shrugged before leaning against the wall adjacent from the door.

I looked around the wide space. My room was fairly big, and it wasn't messy or anything, but having him in here was the most embarrassing and claustrophobic feeling I've ever experienced in my entire life.

I noted the window across the room, which was closed but not locked. I usually lock it before I go to sleep, but forget to lock it before I head to school sometimes. That is the only other way in and out of here besides the door that my back was currently against. However, my room was on the relatively high second floor, and there are no trees outside of my window either. How he got in that window is absolutely beyond me.

I tried to back into the door further, with the hope that I would somehow be able to merge into the wood, pass through it, and escape.

"P-please don't hurt me." I began to sob, squeezing my eyes shut. My shoulders quaked, and I could feel the buzz from where he tased me in the back last week begin to burn again.

I'd been walking down the hall to third period when he pulled me aside and drug me into the boy's bathroom. He pulled out a weird looking metal device, turned me around, and pressed it into my back. I fell to the ground convulsing like an epileptic until the school nurse found me there unconscious nearly an hour later.

" _Please don't hurt me_." He mocked, a sadistic smile on his face. I sobbed even harder. I pressed my hands to my eyes and tried so hard to muffle the whimpers but failed.

He grabbed my wrists and pried my hands away from my face. "What are you doing here? What do you want from me?" I breathed out, my voice soft.

"I'm taking what's mine. It's time."

I looked up at him, confused. What's his?

Then, it dawned on me and my brows turned in. They've actually went so far as to bully it out of me? This is madness. "Fine. You can have it. Just leave me alone. All of you just leave me alone!"

One of his brows perked up and he tilted his head. "I think we're talking about two different things here, Pierce."

"We're not. You can have Valedictorian. It's yours! Now go." I struggled in his grip, wringing my wrists out of his hands. "I don't want to be the spokesperson of a class that has made the last four years of my life hell on Earth anyway. Tell that crazy bitch Katherine she can kiss my ass."

Theodore slammed my wrists against the door above my head with one hand and used the other to grab my face, forced my eyes to meet his. "I don't give a fuck about that. If you want to do it then do it, if you don't then don't. That's not what I'm here for."

I was really confused now. "What are you here for, then?"

His eyes were like pots of liquid nitrogen as they burned into me, and when he spoke again, all the oxygen left my lungs and I was suspended in the abyss. "You."

I licked my lips to quell the aching dryness there, but didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to them and mirrored my actions. "What do you mean?" I asked like a moron. What does any man mean when he says such a thing? I'm not a moron. He wants me on my back.

He leaned in closer, pressed his lips to my ear and whispered. "I mean the one thing that you have right now that hasn't been defiled by me yet. I'm taking what belongs to me."

" _What_? You think that my virtue is your _property_?!" I seethed, my eyes ablaze with contrite.

"There's no part of you that isn't mine. Your virginity belongs to me Pierce, regardless of whether I've yet to take it or not, it always has."

I spit in his face. I actually _spit_ in Theodore Grey's face. Never in my life would I have envisioned it, but holy shit—I did it. "Fuck you." I shuddered out as the angry tears rolled down my face.

He laughed a bit, but wiped his face calmly. Then, he grabbed my nightgown in his fist and drug me over to my bed before picking me up by the waist with ease and tossing me onto the mattress like I weighed nothing. He reached for the back of his gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.

"I'm going to let that slide and attribute it to your weird daddy dispute from a few minutes ago." My blood ran cold. This cruel, asinine asshole. "Strip."

"No." I said softly, crossing my arms over my chest and squeezing my thighs together.

He sighed, "I won't ask you again, Pierce."

I laughed once. "You want me to sleep with you? We're not dating. You've never even kissed me before. Do I look like to you some kind of whore?"

"So you equate kissing someone before fucking them to be non-slutty? Your thought process astounds me." He said dryly.

"If you're looking to get your dick wet you can do it with literally any girl you want. Why not call that tramp Charlotte, I'm sure she'll gladly fuck you. Why does it have to be me? Just leave me alone!" I begged.

Theodore placed his hands on either side of me and they sank into my soft bed like a marshmallow. "If I have to ask you to take your fucking clothes off again, it's going to end with you on the ground shaking like a fish out of water again. Did you like being tased? Fucking do what I tell you to."

I squeezed my body tighter and felt new tears begin to fall. He wouldn't seriously use that thing on me again, would he?

 _What am I thinking? Of course he would._

After a moment of internal screaming, I stood and pulled the straps of my night gown off my shoulders before pushing it down my waist. It pooled at my feet and I stepped out of it, pushing it to the side.

Theodore moved closer to me and I sucked in a sharp breath when he wrapped his arms around my hips, hooked his thumbs in my underwear and pushed them down my thighs. My eyes were wide as I looked down between us. I wasn't wearing a bra because sleep—and holy crap—his bare chest was pushing against my naked breasts. I didn't know what to do with my hands so they stayed up in a surrendering way on either side of me, fists balled.

 _Oh my God…this is so embarrassing._

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and felt the blush bloom across my skin. I've never been this close to a boy in my entire life.

I tried to cover myself up with my hands and flinched when I heard Theodore release a disgruntled groan. "Uncover yourself. It's nothing I haven't already seen before, and much better versions of it, too."

I looked down at my feet, my bottom lip quivering. I know my body isn't the most impressive. I'm paler than a snowstorm and a little chubby, but I still reserve the right to be flustered. If not more so. "I—"

He placed a finger beneath my chin and brought my gaze back to his again. Very slowly and carefully, he whispered to me "You are nothing special, Pierce. You don't need humility."

My brows turned up, and I sniffled as more unwelcome tears cascaded down my messy face. "Lie down." He commanded, jerking his chin forward. He let go of my face and I used the back of my arms to wipe my cheeks dry when I turned around.

I heard the popping of a belt buckle a little before the bed sunk in beside me. Theodore positioned himself between my legs and I looked anywhere but at him. "Try not to look so nervous, you're killing my hard-on."

"Please don't do this." I whispered.

"I get what I want and you're going to give it to me. Willingly. And when I'm done, and you realize just how much you can't live without the feeling of me inside you, that's when I'll be done with you." He promised.

I finally looked at him and my face twisted at the sight of him rolling a square condom packet between his teeth as he stared down at me. He cocked a brow at my expression and it made my blood boil.

"Nothing about this is willing. I don't want it. I'm saying no." I whispered.

He plucked the condom from his mouth and leaned down into my pressing his entire torso against mine. His body was so hard and heavy and warm, it was a little difficult to breath but it almost felt kind of…nice?

"Then say yes." He whispered, his icy blue-gray eyes slicing into my timid green ones. "Tell me you want it."

"No." I said, shaking my head microscopically. "I don't want it. I don't want you. I hate you. All you've done is hurt me my entire life."

"You don't know what pain is Pierce. You don't know because your mind is a fucking blender. Don't even get started with me about hatred. You don't know hate. What you've done to me is borderline satanic." He gritted.

 _What I've done to you…?_ "What are you talking about?" I urged, my eyes drilling into his. "What do you mean by that? Tell me!" He took me hands and pushed them into the mattress.

He chuckled, and I felt it in my tummy—made my entire body vibrate to life. "You know, I hear fucking someone you hate is the best kind of sex." He said, completely bulldozing his previous statement. He wasn't going to elaborate on that statement? I needed him to explain! What do I not understand and why do I not understand it?

"Oh then I guess we'd be pure magic, huh?" I said sarcastically and squirmed beneath him—big mistake. My nipples grazed against his chest and hardened into peaks, back arched and pressed into him even more. Bigger mistake. I could feel his thick, rock hard erection dig into my hood and rub painfully close to my clit.

I moaned weirdly, grabbing his side to balance myself.

He sucked a breath through his teeth. "Hold the fuck still, unless you want me to take you right now. Say it and I'll give you what you want."

 _I don't want anything from you!_

"No." I repeated sternly.

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, his mouth came down onto mine and he stole my first kiss. It was pure chaos, leaving me breathless and panting. His lips were so soft, his tongue was warm and hot as it teased this inside of my mouth. When he pulled away I was a whimpering mess, uncomfortably aroused by what just happened.

 _Well shit._

 _Is…that how kissing feels every time?_

I reached up to grab his face for another but he pulled away from me. "Please?" I begged.

"I'll give you whatever you want, you just have to tell me that you want me." He said.

My eyes flickered across his gorgeous face, bored as it looked down at me, waiting for my response. I didn't know what to think, or what to say. I was afraid, but for once I wasn't terrified even though the situation called for me to be so. Theodore wasn't the usual cold and demanding he usually was—he looked ridiculously calm and patient. It confused me, but the confusion was comforting.

I licked my lips and then slowly nodded my head. "Okay." I said shakily.

He lifted himself off my body and I heard the sound of the foil being ripped. Hesitantly, I looked down right as he began to roll the condom over himself and I freaking gasped.

"Oh God." I whispered harshly, my voice cracking as I did. His eyes flickered up to mine, a confused expression on his face. "There's no way that's going to fit inside of me…" I whined, covering my eyes with my hands for a split second.

"Aw, that's so sweet." He said flatly.

I wasn't joking or trying to boost his ego either. His… _thing_ …was incredibly thick. Way too thick to fit inside of a virgin like me. I would be split in half.

He positioned himself at my entrance and I looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Wait…I won't be able to keep my voice down. My parents are here…!"

"Try." He said simply, and then without warning, his rod slid halfway inside of me in one swift motion.

My mouth flew open and Theodore's hand immediately came down onto it to muffle the screams. The pain shot through my entire body like a bolt of lightning. I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push him off of me. I started banging against his chest.

 _Holy fuck it hurts!_

His brows were creased and his forehead was beginning to bead with sweat. He pushed further into me until his entire length was inside, stretching my walls apart. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed even harder.

" _Fuck…_ " He seethed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he seemed to struggle to catch his breath. "You're _so_ tight."

"Mmmm—" I moaned into his hand and he finally let go of my mouth.

He'd stopped moving and was just holding still against me, his rod still buried deep inside of my vagina. He lowered himself onto my body again and laced his fingers with mine, dug his face into my neck and inhaled deeply.

"Every time your pussy twitches, I can feel it." He said, and I burst into flames. _Oh my god that's so vulgar!_ "Oh, that was a good one."

"Stop that."

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, sitting up and looking into my eyes.

 _Do you actually care you son of a bitch?!_

I shook my head. "Not really, no."

"Then I'm moving." He said and wasted no time. He pulled all the way out before pushing back into me again just as quickly.

"Ahh…" I shuddered out, looking right into his eyes, my body was shaking so hard. It didn't hurt as much anymore, and replaced by the pain was a sensation I was unfamiliar with. "Wait," I begged.

"I've waited long enough, take a deep breath and I'll give you a Tylenol afterwards." He said, and pulled back before slamming into me sharply.

"Oh God—" I squealed when he did it again without warning. His speed began to pick up and I felt so much pleasure build within my core. It spread throughout my entire body, made my pores rise, toes curl, skin heat.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked my legs around his back so that my heels were digging into his ass. Surprised that he let me touch him, but uncaring and wanting to be as close to him as possible. It felt so good… _he_ felt so good.

He fucked me harder, his movements so precise and rhythmic. The sounds that escaped my mouth were incomprehensible and needy, and he was amazing—so rough and gentle at the same time. His little grunts were quaint and soft in my ear, and my stomach flipped with excitement.

Something built inside my belly, I didn't know what it was but it made my ears ring like crazy. "Fuck yes, cum for me. Let me feel it." He goaded, pumping into me even harder. "Jesus Christ."

I dug my fingernails into his back and bit down on his shoulder to mask the scream that slammed into me like a freight train. A ripple of heat washed over me, causing my skin to burn and prickle. My core convulsed and squeezed around his girth. It was a feeling I'd never felt before, but wouldn't mind feeling again—an untamed euphoria. When my body finally went loose and limp with some infeasible, unprecedented satisfaction I felt like I'd fallen onto a fluffy cloud.

He surprised me by suddenly wrapping his arms around my midsection and lifting me from the mattress. He sat me up on top of him and leaned back onto his elbows. I was confused until he finally said, "Ride me."

My eyes widened into dinner plates. "W-w-what?" I asked, completely unhinged.

"Bend your knees, grind on my cock." He said unabashedly, crossing his arms behind his head and relaxing. His toned chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, covered in his sweat and possibly my own as well. The subtle ripple of his abs flexed when he jutted his hips up slightly, urging me on. I let out an embarrassing moan at the action, using his pectorals to brace myself with both hands. I stared down at him with starry eyes.

 _Holy shit he's pretty_.

 _….What the fuck is my problem?_

I swallowed hard, pushing my long hair back and away from my face. I readied myself before finally moving. I slowly undulated my hips against his, so much so that eventually the blinding pleasure became so prominent that I couldn't stop.

"Up and down, too." He commanded before pushing his hips upwards, causing me to shudder.

"Okay…okay." I breathed out, my voice hoarse and soft.

 _Knock knock._ "Flower? Are you okay, dear?"

 _Oh MY GOD._ I stopped moving completely.

Theodore grabbed my arms and trapped them behind my back, pulled me down, flush against his chest and began slamming his cock into me harder, faster. My mouth fell open and I could hardly contain my shrieks of pleasure. _Holy fuck._

"Flower? You're not crying are you?" My mom said.

"You should probably answer your mom?" Theodore whispered, his mouth pressed right against my ear.

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit back the moans. "I'm fine, mom."

 _Okay, that came out pretty good._

Her soft voice drifted through the hardwood door, "Flower, you need to understand that your father doesn't mean the things that he says, he's just a bit too straightforward sometimes, and it comes out as a bad thing."

Suddenly, Theodore pulled all the way out of me slowly, and then slammed back into me again to the hilt. "Oh my God," I whimpered, my voice breaking.

"I know, he drives me crazy as well dear, but don't let his words discourage you. I believe in you my love, alright? You can do anything you put your mind to." She said encouragingly.

I was seeing stars at this point, only hearing every other thing my mother was saying. He wasn't letting up on me, his hips seemed to get deeper with every thrust. I was so close…dangerously close. What the hell is this guy's problem?! That's my mother out there.

"She'll hear me." I said into his ear, my voice needy and desperate. Theodore responded to my plea by tightly locking my arms to the point of discomfort and picking up speed. The sound that came out of my mouth was a mix between a screech and a groan, and it was _loud_.

"Can we talk about this later, mom?" I begged.

"Oh…of course. Just let me know whenever you feel like talking honey. I'm here for you." She said, and I finally heard her footsteps as she trotted back down the hallway.

Suddenly, Theodore's movements slowed and every cell in my body screamed _no!_ I was so close. "Please." I breathed out.

"Tell me." He commanded, his motions slowly picking up again.

 _Tell you what?!_

"Huh?"

His nails dug into my wrists as he wrenched them. " _Tell_ me." I thought about that for a second.

 _Does he want me to say when I'm going to orgasm? Or does he want me to ask him to fuck me?_

I tried, "Fuck me, please?" And was surprised when he squeezed me tighter and began driving into me again.

"Oh my God, I'm going to come…" I whispered harshly.

My orgasm ripped through me without reprimand, robbing me of all senses temporarily. I was still shaking when he drove into me once, twice more and then crushed my body even harder into his own, holding me there. Only the sound of a very harsh exhale followed the tenseness of his taut build against my own could be heard before he finally relaxed.

I could feel his still erect cock twitching inside of me and hated how much I loved that sensation. It was pure bliss, as was the feeling of his hot breath against my skin, his heavy breathing into my chest, and his tight, firm arms around my waist.

His arms loosened and I yelped when he pushed me off of him. I sat up and began to roll my achy shoulders, attempting to get blood flow back into them.

Theodore was already pulling his clothes on, much to my unexplainable dismay. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jeans right as he began to buckle them up. When he felt it he spun around and stared down at me. His eyes were cloudy and distant, it appeared as if he wasn't actually looking at anything.

"You don't want to do it again?" I asked softly. What we just did was absolutely incredible and it hardly mattered that it was only good because we hated one another, or that my parents were less than a hundred feet away. He just robbed me of all my sanity and reason and I loved every second of it. I didn't care—I wanted to do it again.

"I only needed a quick fix. I've got it. I'm done with you." He grumbled.

 _Ouch._

I sat up on my knees, he was right beside the bed so I could wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. I kissed him as deeply as I possibly could with the hope that he'd want me as bad as I wanted him, desperately trying to get him to touch me again. "Please?" I begged when I pulled away.

"You're shaking." He said. His hands came around my waist and cupped my ass. "You want it that bad?"

I bit my lip and nodded.

A huge smile spread across his face and it basically caused me to melt into a puddle of goo. "Excellent. Bye." He pulled my arms from around his neck and pushed me back onto the bed.

 _You're just going to fuck me and leave?_

He was already gone, but that was only the beginning of my problems.

After that night, sex with Theodore was never the same. He became so much colder, and less interested in my pleasure, more interested in his own. I became a personal sex toy for him, he took what he wanted from me and then left as if I was nothing. I always asked myself why he'd been so compassionate with me that night, but after drawing so many blanks I left it to the wind. It didn't matter, he was still that bully—that bastard that I despised. And it was dully apparent that he still hated me very much, even though he'd taken everything from me.

 _Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"What are you thinking about?" Jane asked. She reached out a floured hand and waved it in my face.

I looked down at where I'd been squishing some berries in my hand, fulfilled with the mushy sensation between the slits of my fingers as I drifted into the ether of unconscious thought. When I looked up at her she shot me a worried look, a look that may or may not have said 'you're not you right now'. If that were the case, she'd be spot on, because I wasn't me at the moment. I was elsewhere, and that place was hardly one of contentment.

She pushed the dough in her hands against the granite of the kitchen counter even harder, putting her entire weight onto it, making sure that it flattened before she picked it and slapped it back down again, repeating the same process. All the while she never took her eyes off of me, that stern look stayed trained on her face.

"If you're not feeling well, you don't have to help. Go take a break." She said slowly, and I didn't miss the way her left eye twitched ever so slightly beforehand. I scrunched my eyebrows together and looked back down.

"I'm okay." I said softly.

"You don't look it." She grumbled in response, and when I didn't respond she stopped beating the dough altogether. She wiped her hands on her apron and gave me an interrogating look. "What's going on with you?"

We were preparing for tonight's family dinner, and things were finally beginning to slow down a bit. Earlier today had consisted mostly of prepping the main course ingredients—hectic, now we were just getting the entrees ready for baking. My mother's kitchen looked like a war zone, and I was fairly certain that if she weren't at the hospital right now, she'd be here scolding us over the mess we'd made.

I don't really cook. I mean, I can—I just don't. In fact, all of mom's children were fairly skilled with cooking. This is because she taught us all how to, made sure we could make meals for ourselves at a young age. She was doting in that particular way.

The fruit puree that I had in mind was coming along, but slowly as my mind swims with confusion in search of answers. I was becoming sluggish, my thoughts weighing me down like an anchor.

Jane had clearly noticed.

I followed her lead, pulling one of the towels from the sink and cleaning the mush from my hands.

I said, "I was just thinking about work."

 _A lie._

She sighed and rolled her bright green eyes at me. "Ziggy, you're the smartest person I know. Please understand that I'm not saying this because you're my sister—I actually mean it. That being said, you couldn't come up with a more reasonable explanation as to why you're pretending to be braindead besides 'I was thinking about work'?" Her tone was flat, and I chuckled a bit at the sound of it.

"How dare I defy your intuition?" I said haughtily.

"Seriously Jilly-bean, what's the issue? Do you need a tissue?"

Mere words wouldn't be enough to convey the amount of confusion and strife that I currently possessed. The thought of even having to try was giving me a migraine.

 _I should try seeing a clinician, these head pains are becoming more and more chronic._

I slammed the rag I was wiping my hands with back into the sink and turned to face my sister completely. _Fuck it_.

"Why are people so complicated?" I whispered angrily.

Jane's eyes widened into dinner plates and she stepped back slightly, one hand over her chest in shock. Her mouth hung open for a while before she finally said, "Uh, what?"

"Human beings are unnecessary complex." I sighed.

She thought on that for a minute, her baffled face not resting for even a moment. Then, out of nowhere she said, "Is this about Theodore?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I figured she would ask since mom brought him up yesterday, I just hoped that maybe it would have conveniently slipped her mind. I was an idiot for even hoping something so foolish—my sister was one of the best lawyers in Seattle—nothing gets past her.

I thought about lying for a second, but then realized that there was literally no point. "Kind of…?"

"Oh my God." She breathed, her voice low. "I can't believe it. You and Theo?"

I cocked a brow in her direction. "No, there's no me and him. I just—listen, we have creative differences, him and I."

"Creative differences?" She asked dryly. "Like what? Which one of you is more attractive?"

I groaned at that. "Stop."

"Holy crap, Ziggs. When dad finds out that you're dating Theodore, he's going to _freak_."

I narrowed my eyes at her and then held up my index finger. "First of all, I'm not dating him." Then, my middle finger joined it, "Second, what does dad have to do with this?"

"Are you kidding me Ziggy? Dad _loves_ the Grey's. If he finds out you're dating their son, there's a possibility of you two getting married, our families will merge, dad could expand his business into Grey Enterprises', and he would lose his _mind_ with happiness."

Jesus Christ?! What kind of pressure is she trying to put on me right now?

I shook my head to clear it, pushing down all the messiness that she's just bombarded me with. "Hold on just a second—hold on! _Marriage_? Jane?"

"Uh, there's something going on between you and him, right? I can't even believe it. I mean I can—you're _shit_ hot so it only makes sense but, wow. I thought it was all just a misunderstanding yesterday when mom started talking about you spending the night at his house, but now you're bringing him up! You _go_ girl, seriously."

Is she even listening to me? And when did I bring him up? If I recall correctly, it was _her_ who brought him the hell up.

"Tell me all about it…and don't leave a single juicy detail out! How's the sex?" She asked, leaning against the counter with one fist on her cheek. Her top row of teeth sunk into her bottom lip, failing to sate the huge smile across her expectant and eager face.

"I'm not sleeping with him, Jane." I sighed.

"What do you mean you're not sleeping with him?" She asked.

I tried to keep the irritation from my voice as I explained, "I mean what I mean."

She said, "I don't understand."

"What did you not get about what I just said?" I huffed.

"So…it's like an unrequited thing?" She asked, suddenly more serious.

Unrequited? I mulled that word over in my head for a bit, tampering down the gnawing question.

 _Do I have feelings for Theodore?_

If you'd asked me that a few years ago—hell even about a week ago I wouldn't have hesitated and said 'yes: pure, unequivocal hatred.'

Theodore is the only person that I've really ever truly _hated_. This was because of how he'd manipulate everyone around him, make them think that he was a saint, perfect—angelic. He was a demon in my eyes, and he hid it so well…absolutely psychotic. A potential murderer, stalker, borderline rapist. Just _evil_.

Now, as I think about it more I've come to realize that I don't quite hate him as much as I think I do…not anymore. This isn't a feeling that has just plopped onto my lap out of the blue either, it's an emotion that has slowly built and been chipped away piece by piece.

I don't hate him. If anything, I feel sorry for him. There's something not right with him, and I have this unexplainable compulsion and responsibility to help.

Plus, if I continue to hate him I'm no better than him. I'm cold, empty, and solemn—same way he is. I don't like to think of myself that way.

I don't see him as this untouchable, enigmatic entity anymore…he's just a man. A very intimidating, powerful, terrifying man…but a man nonetheless. The words that he'd spoken to me this morning were still ringing in my head. When I'd admitted that I believed he was in pain he didn't deny it, and my heart sank. I'd always had a clue, but now I was positive—he was hurt. And I had to figure out why because his pain affected me the most.

I couldn't have been bothered to see past that in my youth. I didn't care, mostly because I was too busy looking over my shoulder for him instead of straight ahead _at_ him. He was like the boogeyman to me but worse—he was real.

I don't have unrequited feelings for him, no. Not even close.

However, I tried tackling it from that angle anyway to save myself the trouble of explaining. "How would I go about getting someone to like me?"

Jane made a weird face. "Uh? Since when have you ever given a shit if someone likes you or not? Especially a guy? Don't go chasing a man like Theo, sis. You're too smart for that."

Oh God…she thinks I'm chasing after the unreachable Theodore Grey and putting my heart on the line like a love struck teenager. She was intensely wrong.

And I couldn't admit that I had no desire for Theodore's romantic feelings. I didn't care if he liked me in that way or not, I simply wanted him to not grit his teeth out of rage every time he set eyes on me. If I could accomplish just that—it would be more than enough.

"Jane, just answer the damn question." I grunted.

She brought the knuckle of her index finger to her mouth and then bit down on it, contemplating my words. "Listen—guys aren't complicated. They're simple creatures, really. They aren't like women. They don't mince their words, or beat around the bush about what they want…they'll tell you outright if you just ask. If you really want a guy to like you, you have to be as straight forward with him as you possibly can. Don't be condescending, but challenge him intellectually. Play hard to get, but don't let yourself go so easily."

I held up my hand with the hope that she'd stop talking because she wasn't making any kind of sense. "Stop! Why do you say a statement and then immediately contradict it with another one?! I'm a very literal person Jane, please keep it simple for me!"

"If I know anything about Theo, it's that he's bullheaded. You need to be forward with him. Don't let his power intimidate you and be headstrong. Challenge him intellectually. You're really good at getting people to think. Use that skill on him. And be aloof. Make sense?" She asked.

I gave her a dead look. Seriously? _Nothing_ that she just said made any sense.

Jane brought up her arm and checked her wrist watch. She went to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of containers and started sorting some food into an empty one. It was the pasta that I'd just finished cooking and stuffed into the fridge to keep cool. She spooned a bunch of it into the container and then sealed the lid before sliding it over to me.

I looked down at it, and then back up to my sister before shrugging. My face was scrunched to the point of discomfort.

Her chin jerked to the side. "Bring him lunch."

I shook my head. "Pardon?"

"Theo. Take him lunch. It's almost 12P.M. and a Saturday so I'm sure he's busy as hell. If he works even half as hard as Blane, then chances are he hasn't had lunch yet. Take it to his office and feed him."

 _What the hell?_

"I'm…I don't…what?" I stuttered.

"They say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. You want a guy to like you? Feed him. That's how dad fell for mom, anyway." She tapped the top of the clear container.

I picked up the container and scanned it, then looked back up to her again.

Feed him? Is he a toddler? I don't want to do that.

xxx

 **Theodore**

Ignorance, value, treachery, life choices. My boredom spikes to new highs as I sit through Milton's lecture about global waste management and economy. I stare into the abyss with blank eyes, pegging down the lingering impulsion that compels me to stand and exit this conference room without so much as and poised and rehearsed 'excuse me'. Barrel out into the hallway like a bullet train.

My mind is elsewhere, and it's in a place I'd rather it not be. The crisis extrapolates my sense of knowing, my intelligence, my belonging. Can I just be forward?

I'm fucked.

Yes, fucked.

Royally fucking fucked. Tampering down the bullshit, it's become quite clear that my hole has been dug yet again.

A mass of bright red hair attacks my consciousness, a pair of eyes so vividly turquoise saw into the bones of my foundation, send me toppling over in a mess of stupidity and humiliation. _Fucked._

Ernie looks at me from the corner of the table and his eyes narrow suspiciously. He knows that I'm not paying any fucking attention—which means that he's going to have to do all the heavy lifting for the time-being regarding this contract.

Shit. I've been trying to get my hands on this proposal for months, and my boss finally gives it to me and _shit._ I don't know what the hell the presenter has even been saying for the last thirty or so minutes. There may have even been another endorser before this guy—I don't remember.

I'm not a bad listener damn it—and I'm not some spoiled brat who thinks that just because his father runs the company, he gets to take it easy. I hardly ever miss work and I pull long hours even when I don't have to.

I could bore and disgust anyone by telling them all about how perfect my childhood was, how sheltered _I_ was, and why I reserve virtually no right to be bitter and every right to be a pompous bastard. I won't do that. Instead I'll bag that spiel from the time being and cut to the part where at one point I was smart enough to graduate from Harvard on the dean's list and with every honor imaginable.

Or how I was offered to work in one of the greatest economic enterprises on the east coast but turned them down so I could be close to my family because they mean the world to me. I won't even boast about the fact that I'm one of the youngest businessmen in the country working for a multi-billion dollar conglomerate. I could, but I won't.

And I know that I just did.

I'll make the long story short: I'm diligent as fuck, but right now I can't focus.

I reach out and grab my coffee mug off the oval table, redirecting my gaze to the presenter before taking a sip. Fucking futile. I know that very well that I'm not tired. I'm just distracted.

And I know why, but God would I amputate my own got damn arm and slug some superior, malevolent force with it to be ignorant at this very moment.

"Any questions?" Milton asks.

The hell? He's done already? What had he even been talking about?

I bite my tongue. _Don't say everything, don't say everything._

"I have a couple." Ernie grumbles. My eyes snap over to him when those huge, linebacker shoulders hunch over as he leans onto the table, resting his forearms there. "Where can we expect to see a rise in temperature aside from the Alps? And how would that affect the waste management we have circulating through there?"

Wellshit. That's a good question. And one that I frustratingly would never have thought of.

Because I wasn't listening.

Milton adjusts his collar, suddenly nervous for whatever reason. "We've only observed this territory for now," He points to a spot on the world map on the PowerPoint beside him. Then, he changes to the next slide and highlights a very dynamic looking chart. "Drops in salmon, possibly cod as well—"

"And are we expecting fishing companies in Europe like _Polar Salmon_ and _BioMar_ to take this decline in their inventory lying down? Are we pushing for resourcefulness, or a lawsuit here?" Ernie presses.

Milton pales, but Ernie doesn't let up. "Listen to me Milton because I'll be frank—I like you. You've got promise here at Grey Enterprises, but I'm disappointed with this presentation. It's almost like you hadn't even put any real thought into it. Are you mocking my boss' intelligence?" He gestures to me. "We're not trying to privatize world peace here, but were also not trying to start a war over a little garbage either. Your theory is ambiguous."

I redirect my attention from Ernie to Milton and slant my head, awaiting his reply. He doesn't respond immediately, and as a result, Ernie goes into a more graphic bashing tirade. I watch the two of them go back and forth, but eventually and with no surprise—Ernie wins. He's a lawyer, and a stubborn one at that. He also played football in college, so he was about as pliant as an old piece of gum stuck under a table.

Milton closes the slideshow and begins packing his things, mumbling expletives under his breath. He's taking too long, though, and I've got shit to do. I glace at my watch brainlessly, not even noting the time because I'm a self-important, hubristic asshole.

"Work on the revisions, Milton. We'll run through it again tomorrow morning. Thank you." I say in a bored tone, shooing him away with one hand.

"Thanks for wasting our time." Ernie dictates.

"Ernest." I gruff. This guy is the most irascible person I've ever known, hands down. But he's damn good at his job, which is why he's even here right now.

The guy kept his eyes to the floor all the way out of my conference room where the door softly clicked shut behind him.

I let out an exhausted sigh before resting my elbows on the table, rubbing my face with both hands in the hope that I could wipe off the conflict that lived there.

"What the hell has been going on with you for the past few days?" Ernie's voice echoes in the hollow room that smells of nothing but oxygen and dust.

"You mean besides the fact that I'm not accomplishing shit? Not much, you?" I say dandily.

"You're not snorting again, are you Teddy?"

I made a _pfft_ sound with my mouth. I fucking wish. "Do I look like someone who's been doing coke? Do I look wired to you?"

"You look like someone who's crashed from their high—yeah." His tone was nonchalant.

He can't be serious. I haven't touched cocaine since I was 22 years old, and even then it was a huge fucking mistake. I don't know why the hell I started doing it in the first place. Went to a party with an old friend, they had all kinds of shit to put inside of yourself and feel good. For some reason the white powder stuck out to me and I said screw it because I was 22 and angry and horny all the time. I was caustic and vindictive of every fucking thing—I hated myself. So I drowned it out with drugs.

And for the time being, it made me feel incredible, but the crash was unbearable. I abused it whenever I could for about a year and a half. I got clean when I was 24 and haven't touched the crap since.

"You know I don't fuck with that shit anymore." I say spitefully.

"Then I need clarification as to why you're so out of it. Your dreariness is cramping my fucking style, kid."

"Kill yourself. I'm fine." I say dryly.

"Don't lie. You need some pussy? Cause I can get you some pussy. I can get you three pussies if you want…simultaneously. Just say the word." He snaps his fingers in an exaggerated way and I cringe, forehead creasing. "Don't look at me like that, Ted. This is a huge contract for our department. I need your head clear. We have less than two months to bring this together."

As if I need to be reminded for the thirtieth time. I'm already fucked enough in the head as it is. "Trust me, I can handle this. Get Quentin to administer the paperwork so we can get started with redistribution of the supplies in Everett." I pause, taking a deep breath. My thoughts were all jumbled—seriously uncharacteristic of me. "And I'll take care of Duncan's disposal retraction. Alright?"

His chair hisses in protest as he scratches away from the table and stands. Without another word he exits the room and leaves me sitting at the table with death radiating off of me. My ears drum with a cacophony of duress as her words drill into them. Hateful green eyes glare up at me before softening into warm, liquid pools of emerald.

" _I'm willing to forgive."_

You _idiot_. Don't forgive me. Are you insane? I'm a piece of shit and even I can admit that I deserve no such thing.

I _drugged_ her a few weeks ago. Did she just conveniently forget about that? I did it cause I was bored and I wanted to fucking humiliate her, and it felt good seeing her helpless and weak.

But strangely enough it wasn't as… _satisfying_ as I'd anticipated.

 _Fuck._

Lately, the more I hurt her, the less satisfying it gets. She doesn't fight back—she never has which is just downright baffling, but I can't deny that her blind compliance to my every whim is kind of endearing.

The fuck is happening to me? I'm struggling day by day just to keep my head from planting into the sidewalk as I make my way back and forth from place to place. My work performance is slipping. I've lost it.

This is so unlike me.

Piece has always affected me, but it's never been this intense before. I was always capable of keeping her at a safe distance. Not anymore. She's _everywhere_ now, including my head—consistently…like clockwork.

Is it…because of how long it's been? Three years, got damn it. Impossible. I'd been on cloud nine when I found out that she left.

I'm over it. I've been over it for years.

A lie. It's a fucking lie and I know it. In fact, as of late I find that all I've been doing is lying—but only to _myself_ which is sad as hell. If I were over it the toxicity would never have bloomed to begin with.

" _Something is keeping you in the past."_

You have no fucking idea.

You _seriously_ have no fucking idea. Literally. But I'd rather not think about that. It's so irrelevant at this point.

I'd thought that the past had been buried when she vanished three years ago. I was determined to let the past die—I was determined to eviscerate it if need be. Let the pages burn 'til they were ashes on the floor.

That's my biggest weakness. I'm petty as fuck—I won't even try and deny it. Others would argue and say it's my narcissism, or how honest I am. Fuck that.

Everybody knows me, but nobody actually _understands_ who I am, and I'm irrevocably okay with that fact. I'm not some moody teenager anymore. People don't need to _get_ me, they just need to listen to what I say and do it. That's more than enough for me.

Except for her. She sees through me like I'm made of fused quartz, but the irony is that she can't articulate what she sees and it drives me nuts. She knows who I am, but I'm still a stranger to her and what's worse—she _knows_ it. Infuriating doesn't even scratch the surface of how I feel. Why does this have to be so unnecessarily complex?

It's not her fault, you ass wipe.

I know it's not her fault—it really isn't. I _know._ However, understanding that doesn't make me any less pissed.

I've been angry a lot lately. I don't think I've acquired as much anger in my entire life as I have in the past couple of weeks.

Fuck her. Fuck the fuck out of her.

I want to fuck her.

 _God_ , do I want to fuck her until that flawless pale skin of is florid and glistening. I _need_ to imprint her, I find myself craving her contact constantly. I want her to touch me—but I can't stand it when she does because I lose all damn control which is not okay. I need to be in control. I need her to be afraid of me. It's the only way I feel any semblance of satisfaction when I look into those big, gorgeous fucking eyes.

Damn.

Women are easy, they're toys—instruments. That's always been my philosophy because it's the easiest way to avoid getting attached to any of them and screwing up my emotions all over again.

Yes, it's incorrigible and virulent but I'm hardly an ascetic. I like something, I take it—that includes women. Especially the ones who laugh blindly without actually hearing my words before shoving their tits in my face and calling me _daddy_ with pouty, plastic filled lips.

I see, I take. Then I'm done.

But with Pierce? It's not the same. She's not 'women'. She's _fucking_ weird. Unnatural. Bizarre. She doesn't care about her physical appearance but she's overwhelmingly beautiful despite the fact. She couldn't give a flying fuck what people think of her and it's sexy as hell.

The girl is like a drug. She always has been. I've taken from her time and time again and shit—it's not enough. I'm an adult now, so I can say without refute that it'll never be enough. I have a higher chance of surviving a shotgun to the head than ever separating the viciousness that clouds my head whenever she looks at me.

I want her to not exist. To have never existed. Period. Then, I'll be at peace.

Don't forgive me. Hate me harder. It's the only way that I can feel okay with how much of a trash human being I am. Being admired makes you feel good, but being hated makes you feel like crap and that's the way it's supposed to be. I'm not void of emotion, nor a plethora of it either but I can't imagine that anyone enjoys being hated. I sure as hell don't, but it's what I _deserve_.

I push away from the table and stand, buttoning up my suit jacket as I do. I have work to do, seriously—a shit ton of it. This is probably the biggest contract of my career, and it will be perfection, right down the very last and most insignificant detail.

As I step off the elevator on the floor that houses my office, I hear muffled feminine voices indulging one another. The short trip from the bank of elevators to my reception area is short, so I'm there in less than five seconds, and when I finally pinpoint the sounds that I'd heard, my blood turns to ice.

I stop in my tracks and stare at a waterfall of fire, cascading down a silk pink blouse in loose waves. The contrast is almost flooring. I can't see her face since her back is turned to me, but I'd know that hair anywhere. I've never seen a woman with hair so vividly red before, and it's natural too, which blows my mind.

Jillian Farrah Pierce (don't ask how or why I know her middle name), is in my reception, talking to my secretary Tabitha like she's an old friend.

She truly is the bane of my existence, this girl.

What the hell is she doing here? Can I not have more than six hours of got damn peace from your impudence?

The khaki pencil skirt she has on hugs her hips tightly, and her ass, Jesus Christ her ass is perfect. Her soft curves are prominent and enticing. She's perfect…in literally every way. And I _hate her_ for it. I hate her for not realizing how perfect she is, but to be fair that's mostly my fault.

For some reason, that makes me fucking ecstatic, knowing how insecure she is, knowing that _I_ did it to her. Fucking gratifying.

Suffer.

Her shoulders tremble as that quiet laughter of hers fills the room. She isn't a big laugher. Her laugh isn't like other women's. It isn't meant to attract attention or stand out. It's just a pure, laconic sound.

Tabitha's starry-eyed gaze as she speaks to Pierce shifts, and she somehow spots me at the entrance. She stands abruptly, her roller chair nearly topping over behind her as I approach the door that leads to my office. "Welcome back Mr. Grey." She squeaks.

Pierce turns around, a strained look on her face that quickly fades when she sets eyes on me.

Don't look at me like that.

Don't look at me like I'm worthy of your attention. Because I'm _not_. I want to hurt you so badly right now it's crazy. To bend you over my desk and spank your ass so hard that my handprint blooms your creamy porcelain skin and mends into the soft, pink flesh.

I give her a look that isn't initially meant to be cold and uninviting, but I'm positive it is. It's hardly in my control. For some reason, I can't help but be indignant when she's around. Seriously—it doesn't make any sense how much I dislike her. Except it _does_ ,because the day I realized how little I'd meant to her was the day that she broke me.

Let it the fuck go.

I drop kick the clawing torment that awaits, desperate to belittle me, excoriate me. Abhorrent. This heartless cunt has done enough.

I can feel the frown pulling harder at my mouth, feel my brows tweed as my eyes narrow even further. The closer I get the more uncomfortable I feel, the hotter my entire body becomes until it's practically in flames when I breeze past her without a single word. I can't even talk to her, because I'll just blow up and start yelling again.

I seriously need to find my fucking chill.

I'm half a foot from my door when Tabitha's voice makes me jolt. "Anderson called, they're still waiting for your response on whether or not you'll be attending the Fireman's Ball next month."

"RSVP No." I say before disappearing into my office and unintentionally slamming the door behind me.

Seriously? Did I just slam my door? What is _wrong_ with me? I don't slam doors. That's not me at all.

I pace my office back and forth several times, looking at the closed door in between pauses. _Why_ is she here? Why?

Should I call security? I don't enjoy the idea of having her in my workplace. She's already enough of a distraction in literally every other aspect of my life. I brought her into my home…twice.

Stupid, stupid decision, but I needed her close. I constantly need her to be as close to me as possible, but she hates me (understandably), so she keeps her distance as she eyes me with irate confusion and skepticism. The last thing I expected is for her to show up to my job. Avoiding me is like an Olympic sport for her. No woman has ever been as repellant of me as she is. They fly to me like paperclips to a magnet, but she runs in the opposite direction if she can.

And hell, that's a huge turn on, too.

Royally fucked.

Is she still out there? It's only been 30 seconds, Grey—good chance she is. Even bigger chance that she isn't. Funny thing? Both scenarios scare the fuck out of me.

I don't want to deal with her at the moment, but shit, I want her close.

I know I'm a lunatic for having that train of thought, I'm not unaware. I may be mildly psychotic, but I'm not insane.

I go over to the phone on my desk and hesitate before clicking the intercom. "Send her in." I say swiftly, and then sit down. My knee bounces up and down as I stare at the vacant wooden door. When the knob jingles, my stomach constricts and my body goes numb.

Then suddenly, she's in my personal space again. Standing there, looking at me with the most unwavering expression I've ever seen on her face in my entire life.

Shit.

She's beautiful. Un-fucking-believably beautiful. Her face is so interesting to look at. It's exotic, clean-cut, and symmetrical. Her lips are an atypical shape. Full, pink, and they slant whenever she's in deep thought. The smattering of freckles that adorn her button nose and flay out to her cheekbones are soft and perfectly in place. They look as if they've been hand-drawn, place one-by-one, and crafted by an artist.

She squared her small shoulders and approached my desk with some unfounded confidence. "Are you hungry?" She asks, just close enough to me so that I could breathe, but no so much as to suffocate me.

My already tight eyebrows pull together even tighter, my face twisting into sheer horror.

The fuck did she just say?

Before I can finish that train of thought she repeats herself, her calm, raspy voice filling the silence once again. "You haven't eaten yet, right? I made some pasta, would you like some?" She extends a container filled with some white pasta looking stuff in it.

My eyes flicker to the container, then back up to her again. I don't say anything though—I don't know what to say.

Am I _hungry_? Kind of, but not enough to accept that. I'd have to be starving before I eat something that she offers to me.

Why the hell does she think that I would accept _anything_ that she gives to me? I don't need shit from her. Ever.

With a disgruntled sigh, she sets the container on my desk and says, "Eat it or don't—I don't care."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I grit, inexplicable anger rising from virtually nowhere. Who the hell does she think she's talking to right now? Has she lost her silly fucking mind?

She blanched— _good_ , eyes finding the floor. "I'm…I was just—"

Do I look like I give a fuck what 'you were just'? _Fuck_ you.

 _Don't lose your cool, don't lose your cool._

"Look at me." I demand. She looks up at me immediately, and fuck—my cock twitches in my pants.

I am such a fuckup. I can't even have a spineless, timid little cunt like her look me in the eyes without my cock betraying me and dancing like it's in some Broadway musical.

Dang it.

"No one speaks to me that way."

"I'm sorry." She says softly.

Why does she always apologize? It just pisses me off even more, and I've told her this for years. Does she possibly do it _because_ she knows how much it pisses me off? Cause if so, bravo.

"Come here."

Warily, she rounds the desk and stands in front of me, hands knotted together at her front as she fidgets nervously. I swivel in my chair to face her and she moves even closer, between my spread legs like a good girl. "Why are you in my office right now?" I ask.

Those deep, intense green eyes stab into me as she gnaws on her bottom lip. "I was just bringing you something to eat. Thought you might be hungry."

"I didn't ask you to bring me anything. If I don't ask for something, don't give it to me. Understand?"

She closes her eyes and it looks as if she was mentally counting to ten.

I felt my mouth twitched with a smile but I clamp down. "I was trying to have consideration for you, Theodore."

My stupid heart just slammed against my ribcage at the sound of my name rolling off of her tongue. Well damn. Her voice is so raw and throaty, but at the same time it's melancholic and quiet.

Deadpan, I say "I don't need your consideration. Not now, not ever. Do only what I ask, and nothing I don't." I brought my hand up the back of her thigh, running it along her smooth, warm leg. "What's the actual reason you're here?"

Her brows scrunch up. "I just told you."

You told me a lie.

She's a good liar, but I'm an even better bullshit detector.

I tighten my hand around her thigh and squeeze hard, savoring the puff of a whimper that escapes her lips. "Lie again. Please lie again. I dare you."

"I…I just—" She stutters, not answering…stalling.

I slid my hand father up her thigh, pushing her tight skirt as I did and grabbed a good handful of her ass, squeezing hard with the hope that she'd fucking bruise. She sucks in a sharp breath, her face contorting in pain.

Her mouth forms into a small _O_ , and then softly, quietly she chokes out a disgruntled, "Ow."

I bite back the shivers of pleasure that arise at the sight of her discomfort but it's not enough—I'm rock hard now.

"It hurts…" She whispers, still stalling.

"Answer the question." I seethe. "Now."

"I want to be friends." She stammers out.

My grip immediately loosens and my tense expression falls as I stare up and her, completely dumbfounded.

"You _what_?" I grumble, narrowing my eyes slightly.

"I want to be friends with you." She breathes.

 _Why?_ No wait—doesn't she honestly think that I'm capable of having platonic feelings for her? That'd be a riot. There's no other person in my life who makes me feel the way that she does, and these emotions aren't stagnant or passive, they're caustic and vitriolic. I would give anything for them to not be, but I remain where I am, ire ripening—I despise her to the very core of my being.

"I don't want to be friends with you." I say, and I mean it—I can barely tolerate what we have right now, whatever the hell it is.

"What do you want from me then? Just tell me." She asks intently.

"If and when I ever need anything from you, you'll be the first to know about it. Now if that's all—get out of my office." I point at the general direction of the door, my eyes never leaving hers.

I need her out, right now. Her scent was staining my office, and I was beginning to fear I'd have to get the whole room fumigated to rid myself of it or risk having it drive me insane.

"Wait—" She insists and my teeth crack as I grind them in irritation. "My family is having a small dinner tonight to celebrate my mother's hospital release. I'd like for you to come."

This conversation is getting weirder and weirder. "Why…would I go to that?" I ask, genuinely curious, no hostility behind it at all. I would be beside myself to understand why in the fuck she thinks I would under any circumstance, consent to doing that.

She shrugs a bit. "I don't know? My mother really likes you, my father might just be in love with you. He surely likes you more than me. And by the looks of things, you're typically alone all the time. Look, it was only an offer. Feel free to say no and call me stupid and ugly."

I bite down on my tongue. You're neither stupid nor ugly—not even close.

You _are_ a fucking airhead though.

My eyes rolled to the back of my skull. "Are you _trying_ to piss me off?"

"No!" She wails in pure horror, holding up her hands defensively. I bite back the urge to burst out laughing. It's both illogical and completely logical how afraid of me she is, and the more she fears me, the more control I have over her…I need that control. I need some kind of regulation for how I feel about this person, because it's visceral at times and it becomes a mountain climb as I attempt to organize the madness inside of my brain.

"Yeah, you can go now. Get the fuck out of my office." Before I lose what little self-control I'm holding onto. I want her so bad I can't even think straight anymore. I've haven't been so starved from not having pussy for so long ever.

I won't fuck her though. Why give her the satisfaction of again realizing that I can't control myself. No way in hell am I going to lose my cool, drug and contemplate sodomizing her like a freaking lunatic again. That was too much, even for me.

Unless…

No. Not going to do that either.

Not until she asks me— _begs_ me for it. Not a moment before. She has to ache for it first, and its coming fast that ache. I can see it drumming up like a symphony from beneath those heavy-lidded orbs. She wants me. And…why does that make me so fucking happy?

I was at one point so disgusted with the fact that she had any kind of desire for me, and the day I ripped away her innocence and she begged me to stay made me physically sick to my stomach. I truly hate this woman, I _do_ —present tense. I'm positive.

So why would I murder anyone who lays a hand on her without hesitation? That's always been something that's never changed over the years. I will kill _anyone_ who touches her. Everything that she is belongs to me. Period.

And I linger on that as she shakes the animosity from her head before peeling away from me. The door clicks behind her quietly and I feel my body finally relax.

… _Damn_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 – The Rain, Part 1.**

 **Theodore**

It's raining again.

The sky is dead with gaudy clouds that are obstructing the hollowed moon, removing all semblance of light. Droplets beat the glass to the sliding door of my veranda, demanding some kind of attention.

City lights shudder across the trembling ocean. If I squinted I could maybe even spot the Sound, stretching even further into the abysmal Seattle landscape.

You'd think that after living in the rainiest city in the country for more than twenty-five years, it should come as no surprise that what do you know—it's miraculously raining again.

However, I see it trickling down the awning of my veranda, plopping into the pool housed in the backyard, rippling and gyrating the fluorescent water. It's a wonder how something so visually magnificent can make me feel so dreary.

But the rain upsets me, even more so than it does for the average person.

I almost died in the rain.

I beat the cigarette pack on my jean clad thigh, pulling out another stick before lighting it up and taking a long drag. I stare at the end of the white paper as it burns amber, slowly turns to brittle ash.

Usually, I'm against smoking indoors because the smell is a pain in the ass to get out of the furniture, but I'm feeling extra shitty today and can't— _won't_ wait for the rain to pass. Standing outside in the freezing cold and watching idly while the moist air freezes the sidewalks over just doesn't scream 'fun' to me.

I'm so numb for the most unknown reason. Ever have one of those out-of-body experiences where you're looking at your dormant body like an outsider? That's how I'm feeling right about now.

My mind is so full with images, memories that even after years of therapy, I was unable to purge. The sickness that churns my stomach is so familiar, and it makes me to ache.

Some TV show that I was watching brings me back to reality, ripping me from the safety of my mind. I turn around just as Hugh Laurie makes an intelligent quip about how he was right about his patient's condition from the get-go.

What a twist.

Predictability is something that I wish I had in my life. A few days ago, I took for granted the guidance of knowing what would happen next. It was the past that's always made my skin crawl.

I pad over the couch and spread myself across the firm cushions. The theme for House plays, and I hum along to it before tapping my cigarette on the ash tray that sits on the coffee table.

"Ted!"

I turn my head and peek over the back of the couch right as Liam barrels into the living room. His eyes are wide and crazy, looking as if he'd just witnessed something incredible.

My brows pulled in, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I grumble.

"Rebecca is coming over and she's bringing a friend. Make yourself look presentable for me, yeah?" He explains.

You have got to be kidding me.

"Go away, Liam." I say dryly. Definitely not in the mood to steer that train.

He comes around the couch and stands in front of the TV. It takes everything in my power to not chuck this glass of whiskey sitting on the coffee table at his big head.

"I've been up since 5AM, dude—I'm tired. I don't have the energy to entertain a couple of throwaways. Get it?"

"You're _always_ tired from work." He argues, and it just makes me even angrier. "Why do you work so much anyway? Why do you work at all? It's not like you have to make a living for yourself."

I remember at one stage during my adolescence, I hinted that I maybe, just maybe didn't want to go into the family business. I may have hinted that I wanted to do something else, something that had nothing to do with business. The details of my confession were fuzzy, but I clearly remember the results, which were ultimately my father going blue in the face and nearly collapsing.

I sigh inwardly, resting my head on the couches arm. "Because if I don't work, my father will have a _fucking_ aneurism. I don't know what it is that such a…I mean my sister cares about that damned company way more than I do, and she's better at running it than me as well. I don't even know what I'm doing there."

"Quit." He says simply.

I look at him again. "Then what? I get into knitting? I'm a qualified marketing and management professional…this is all I can do. Unless I want to go back to college—which I do not."

Aside from all that, it's not like I actually hate my job. In fact, I love it—it's just incredibly exhausting is all. I thought after a few years I'd just get used to it, and to a certain degree I have. However, I don't think any amount of schooling and training can prepare you to take on a workload that some people spend upwards of thirty years preparing for, and I had to condense all of that experience into less than five years.

"Fine then, whatever. Be miserable. You don't have to put any effort into wooing the girls, just sit there like you are and look generally amused, sound good?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "If I have to tell you to go away one more time…"

That threat seemed to not faze him. Then again, he's dense, so he probably didn't even realize that it was one.

Liam has been staying in my house for the past two months, which is slowly becoming more of a headache. Sure, he's my best friend and the brother I never asked for or wanted, but fuck—he's wild.

I've known him since high school and we went to college together. He's followed me around like a lost puppy since we were 15 years old. Now, I realize it's because women stick to me like glue, and no one loves women more than Liam, even if they were his best friend's sloppy seconds.

But that aside, there was more to it. I thought for the longest time that he was a complete idiot because he couldn't tell you what one plus one equaled. Seriously, the guy is a textbook idiot, but shit—he's a good friend.

He's never treated me the way everyone else does. Doesn't see Theodore Grey, Christian Grey's son—just saw Ted, and that's something that even I had trouble seeing for the longest time. He didn't bug me about my legacy, my status, or question my integrity. He's the most loyal bastard I've ever met in my life. Fuck it that he was a pussy hungry moron.

Boy is seriously wild though, parties like a teenager and circulates whores though my house so much that people have suspected some kind of brothel is happening in here.

Why is he living in my house? Hell if I know.

His parents are loaded and he's never asked me for money before, so I assume that he's not cut off. Aside from living here, he's never asked me for anything major before. I always thought that he just needs an excuse to dick around with no real commitment to anything.

Liam is to mindful fucking and life choices as Skywalker is to the dark side—non-existent.

And I know that's an obscure reference, but it's as close to making sense in contrast to his stupidity that I can muster off the top of my head.

I don't really care too much that he stays here, though. He's not messy or loud, and it's a pretty big fucking house. Eight-thousand square feet, six bedrooms, seven bathrooms—sometimes I'm barely aware of him. That is until he _makes_ me aware.

Plus, even though this is basically Liam's permanent residence, he's rarely ever here. The guy is a slut, and finds a ridiculous amount of enjoyment in bathing himself with as many females as he possibly can before his inevitable, bitter end.

I predict that end will be by a fatal and newfound STD.

Yesterday it was Taylor, the day before that it might have been Samantha. Now it's Rebecca, and if he strikes out with her it'll be whoever the hell that girl is tagging along…possibly even both of them—at the same time.

As a result, he maybe sleeps here twice a week.

"This is happening, Grey. Just let it." He says slowly, nodding with every word.

Prick.

I took another drag of my cigarette, hoping that it would calm me down. "Not in the mood, Liam."

Those bushy eyebrows shoot into his dark hairline. "Not in the mood for what? For sex? Are you sick?"

"Getting there." I mumble.

His eyes roll. He comes over to the couch and pushes my leg out of the way before flopping down on the other side. "You're real depressing lately, what's going on with you?"

Why does everyone keep asking me that?

"Don't you usually have work right about now?" I ask, hopefully diverting the conversation.

"Oh yeah, I quit that shit stick job the other day. It was draining all of the life out of me." He groans, throwing his head back.

All he did was write calligraphy for invitations, _that's_ his definition of draining? His motivation to stay had probably been that he was banging his boss' daughters as well. And yes, I said _daughters_ …plural.

"I'm blowing through my inheritance like crazy." He breathes.

How is that even possible? I don't charge him rent and as far as I know he doesn't have a drug problem. What the fuck is he spending his money on? Whores?

I inhale the thumb of whiskey in my glass before setting it on the floor. "Wouldn't keeping a job help minimize the amount of money you're losing, Liam?"

"I don't want to work." He says quietly before looking at me with frightening sincerity.

I stare at him for a long stretch. "Why don't you just become an escort? Pays good and you're pretty much guaranteed sex."

Liam's eyes widen into dinner plates, balking at me as if he's never even thought about that before. "Wait…what?" He laughs nervously, and I use the word 'laugh' loosely; it was more of an uncontrolled cackle.

"Never mind." I grumble around my cigarette.

He held out his arms, eyes wide as the realization slowly encased him. "No that's actually a _brilliant_ idea."

Liam has this nasty habit of talking out every single thought going through that pea brain of his, and it's irritating as fuck. "Men can be escorts, too. Here I am buying prostitutes when I can just _be_ one! The hell is wrong with me?"

My eyes narrow, "You've been bringing prostitutes into my house?"

I'm not even angry, just bored and tired. Honestly? I've dealt with much worse from this guy.

"What kind of an asshole do you take me for? Of course not. I take them out to the backyard and plow them in the Jacuzzi like a fucking gentleman."

Well, time to get a new Jacuzzi. Might as well have the pool drained as scrubbed too, while I'm at it.

Now I know what he's been spending all of his money on: Whores.

I pull another stick from the pack, searching around the couch for the damn lighter.

To my surprise, Liam bolts up from the couch and out of the living room just as quickly as he barreled in. I stare at his back, completely dumbfounded with a new cigarette hanging between my lips. How abrupt.

"Get up, you dipshit!" He throws over his shoulder.

I shake my head and light the paper before inhaling deeply, cracking my neck to one side, then the other. Why do I even bother to watch television downstairs? I have one in my bedroom. If I'd been in there and minding my own business, he probably wouldn't have even known I was home.

I'm not staying up with him or anyone else tonight, but I'm hardly in the mood to argue about it. Too tired. When he comes back downstairs and finds me gone, he'll get the idea. I barely got anything done today, which is not something I usually have trouble with. My mind is always sharp as fuck, but as I left the building I had nothing except for a mountain of work left to do.

I wait for a moment, then stand, stretching my arms over my head. I reach for the remote control and the huge living room fills with silence when the screen goes black.

The familiar sound of my doorbell floats through the house and my eyes flicker down the long hallway that leads to the front door.

"Liam, the whores you've ordered have arrived." I call out with the most unenthusiastic tone I possess.

I approach the front door and mash the box that gives me a live video feed of who's outside. My gate doesn't have a lock on it, so pretty much anyone can just walk up the driveway and knock of my fucking door. I've been meaning to get something done about that, but what? I'm going to have a thirty foot gate around my house? My neighbors will think I'm a narc.

What I see on my video feed isn't a couple of eager, unfamiliar faces, though—it's a painfully familiar one. I hold my breath, willing myself to bring the gnawing indignation to cease—begging the passivity to come forward.

It's Jillian.

What…is she doing here? Why is she constantly turning up uninvited over and over again?

 _Looks who's talking._

Oh this is just too good.

I twist the deadbolt and pull the door open, prepared to verbally stomp her into the ground.

But when she looks up at me, and those rosy cheeks puff as her lips pull into a smile, everything that I was going to say just melts into a pile of mush at my feet.

She pushes the hood off of her head and smooths the loose strands of hair away from her face. It doesn't help though, as a majority of them simply fall right back down again.

It's freezing outside, and I contemplate inviting her in, but the asshole in me isn't having it. I pull the cigarette from my mouth and quietly ask, "What do you want?"

She shakes her head and the loose, curly strands that frame her face sway gently. The smile on her face is warm and inviting, which for some reason creeps me the fuck out. "I'm here to bring you to my house for dinner."

For fucks sake.

"Unbelievable." I groan before moving to shut the door. She reaches out and places her hands between the jamb and the lock.

"It'll be fun, trust me. We eat and we talk, then we'll play Pictionary and then there's more talking. I know that sounds kind of boring but I promise, it's a riot. Usually, my sister does these big poster boards with collages of our family on them and she uses it to decorate the dining room. Makes my mom really happy. Kind of corny—but it's cute, too…and—"

"Shut up!" I yell, completely baffled that the words just keep pouring out. "Holy fuck. How does your mouth move so quickly? Are you a squirrel?!"

She blushed at that statement, or at least I think she did. Her cheeks are already so red that it's hard to tell. "I'm a little nervous."

"Aw, are you? Well allow me to put you at ease. Fuck off." I grit and move to shut the door again but this time she kicks it with an innate, brutal force. How such immense power came out of something so tiny, I will never understand.

I pull the door open all the way this time and grab her soaked rain jacket, pulling her so close to me our noses were touching. "Kick my door again and your leg will become very well acquainted with my sledgehammer."

Her brows turn up, and I don't miss the pure, untamed horror that quickly flashes across her face. She quickly hides it though, forcing another smile. "Noted."

Jesus Christ, is she really so naïve she believes that I would literally bring a sledgehammer down onto her? I'm not _that_ fucked up.

From this close up, her bright green eyes look like pure liquid, swimming around those quivering corneas as they scan every bump and curvature of my face.

Fuck, she's sexy—annoyingly sexy…and she's unnecessarily humble about it. I've spent a good majority of my life surrounded by beautiful women who think that the world belongs to them. Tall, plastic or not, of all shapes, sizes, and colors with legs that go on for days. Ones who could bat their eyelashes and send dicks flying to the ceiling. Girls who could wrap you around their pinky finger with the tiniest ass wiggle and have the proudest of men salivating at their feet.

But this woman could give any of them a run for their money without even trying, with ease. Her sly and condescending sense of humor alone could bring any man to their knees. There's so much innocence in the way she looks at me, no ulterior motive behind anything that she says or does.

I let go of her quickly and she stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over the single step between the front door and the porch.

She balances herself with all the grace of a newborn baby deer before finally clearing the doorway. I move back instinctually because whenever she's close to me, my resolve goes out the window.

She shuts the door behind her and turns to face me.

"Leave."

"Not without you." She dictates as she rubs her bright red nose. A fit of tremors wrack over her small frame. I observe them come and go in small waves from the surface of her puffy blue rain coat.

She looks like an elf, or something else beautiful and mythological, all pink and red and pale at once. Her long, red hair is pulled into the messiest bun I've ever seen, sitting on her head with little care, tendrils flying all over the place.

"You should probably grab a rain coat. It's really cold and wet out there."

I give her a dead in the eyes look. "Are you fucking deaf? I'm not going to your house, you asinine twat."

Her pouty lips pull into a frown. "Asinine twat, huh? That's a new one. Your vocabulary is breathtakingly extensive. If only you used that intellectual prowess of yours for good instead of evil." She says longingly.

"It's not charming, your sarcastic fucking mouth." That's a lie. Of course her sarcasm is charming, it's downright addictive. There is nothing about this woman that isn't endearing.

She sighs tiredly. "You've been to my house before."

What does that have to do with anything?

"And?" I ask exasperatedly.

"And…coming over once more shouldn't be too much of a hassle. Doesn't look like too much is going on here…" She chuckles haughtily, her eyes scanning the emptiness of my house before landing on me again.

What a cunt.

"You're supposed to hate me but are somehow spontaneously obsessed with my well-being. It's creepy, you know. My skin is crawling." I explain calmly.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm not obsessed. I'm trying to be nice to you."

"Well, cut it out…you're making me uncomfortable." I tease, my mouth curving into a small smile, but I refuse to admit that I'm dead serious.

Her laugh is so throaty and harmonic that I hold my breath in awe at the sound of it. " _You're_ uncomfortable? Remember that time in the 7th grade when your girlfriend decorated my locker with panty liners? Or that other time you shoved a Taser into my spine and I nearly had to be taken to the hospital? How about when you showed up at my part-time job with your cronies and put up a display so rambunctious it nearly got me _fired_?"

I feel my eyes roll as I lean against the end table and cross my arms. "I didn't have a girlfriend in high school, Jillian. In fact, I've never had a 'girlfriend' in my entire life."

Sincerely, the idea of sharing any kind of caged intimacy with another human being scares the shit out of me.

Her brows scrunch together tightly and she gives me an expression that clearly states 'are you fucking kidding me?' Her words reflect that even better, "Not the point! If anyone should be uncomfortable between the two of us—it's me. What right do you have to be such a thing? I've never done anything to you."

You've done _everything_ to me. You annihilated me in one fell swoop. I'm just returning the favor to you in installments.

"Listen to your own words, gremlin—I've been nothing but shitty to you for the better part of your life. Your attempt at getting cozy is downright bizarre."

She's clearly beginning to get annoyed, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the slightest bit amusing.

She grit her teeth, and began using _a lot_ of hand gestures to illustrate her point. "I'm not trying to get cozy, I'm trying to survive here. I've tried leaving you alone and I've tried doing what you say but I get hurt either way. Look, it was selfish of me to not take the time to understand you. I don't want us to keep hurting one another!"

"You think that I need a _reason_ to hurt you? You're sorely mistaken."

"I don't think you need a reason, I think that you have one and it's the _only_ reason. I'm just trying to figure out what that reason is."

"So, you're a fucking altruist now?" I crossed my arms, feigning some kind of fascination.

She squeezed her eyes shut. I could see the pain and hesitation on her face before she spoke again. "I'm not attempting to dissect you. You've hurt me for years and damn it—I'm afraid of you. You have no idea how scared shitless I was to even come here. I never know when you're going to explode and hurt me. This isn't easy, and I can only imagine how hard it is for you."

I slam my fist into the wall, causing the paintings hanging from it to shake once again. "You don't even know me!"

"I'm trying to!" She screams back.

"Who asked you to?"

"If it helps you sleep at night." She states.

"You are overwhelming mundane." I say dryly, throwing my head back on the word 'overwhelmingly' for emphasis.

"I just want to know the reason. I need to know why. No more beating around the bush."

"There is no why. I did it because I felt like it. I did it because I'm fucking insane."

"That's what you want me to believe, but I'm not stupid. Of course there's a why. It's written all over your face—"

"Stop trying to fucking read me. Nothing is there, Jillian. I'm empty." And I have been for years. Nothing can fulfill me, not even her misplaced, half-assed empathy.

"I believe you." She whispers, and I don't know why but it breaks me. I've always known that I didn't have real purpose in my life, but hearing it from _her_ is just enough to destroy me all over again.

She is unusually bold today, and I don't like it.

"Your audacity is…" Pissing me the fuck off. I stop myself from finishing that, because if I do it'll be messy and loud. "Get out of my house."

"Come have dinner with my family."

I feel my eye twitch. "Am I speaking another language?"

"No." She says simply.

"I don't want to go." I say through clenched teeth.

"Please?" She begs. Fucking hell.

Bring it back, Grey. Don't lose your cool.

I go over to the door and pull it open before escorting her onto the stoop…snagging the sleeve of her jacket and dragging her out would be a better description. "Goodbye, Jillian." I lilt as I push the door closed.

She stopped it with her hand… _again._

"I've already told my family that you're coming tonight." She pleads, and I can't help but feel that she's fucked herself way harder than I thought.

"That's your problem, not mine. Good luck covering up that lie." I try and close it again.

"Tell me how I can get you to come, then." She offers with her foot stuck between the frame and the door, her hand clutching it like a pair of vice grips.

What part of 'I don't want to go', doesn't she get?

I laugh once, thinking I could scare her off with some bullheaded compromise. "You can suck my dick, then I might consider it."

"I'm not going to do that." She says with complete benevolence.

"Then I suppose you've made your bed. Goodbye." I say as I begin to push the door closed.

She freezes in place, her chest puffed with yet to be expelled oxygen. "I need a guarantee. If I can have a guarantee, I'll do it."

I blink once, slowly before pulling the door open all the way again. "What?"

Silence.

I try again, "You'll do what?"

She rolls those eyes before elaborating, "I will perform fellatio on you if you promise to come have dinner with my family."

I already know what she meant…I just wanted to hear her say it out loud. And the way she decided to phrase it was well worth the pry. "Don't roll your fucking eyes at me again, that is literally the last time I'm going to warm you, do you understand?"

She shrunk a bit there, but nodded her head. "Yes, I understand."

"Why are you so desperate? You'd actually do something so stupid for a promise that I may or may not follow through on? I'm still the same person—I haven't changed."

"You call me Jillian." She says.

I slant my head in confusion.

"Before I left for Berkeley, you always called me Pierce and sometimes even _bitch_ …you never called me Jillian once. Why do you call me by my name now?"

I felt one of my eyebrows perk up, mouth fell open slightly as I stared at her. I was completely speechless, and no amount of voodoo and spiritual power could pull me from this trance because holy shit—she's right.

Why the heck _am_ I calling her Jillian?

She continues, "Why are you so touchy? Why do you hold conversations with me for so long? A year ago you couldn't be in the same room with me alone for more than five minutes without losing your shit. Why did you even open the door when you saw me on the call box? Why not just walk away? Something has changed in you, something that doesn't hate me anymore or even a tiny bit less. You've changed."

I feel my mouth pull to one side as my attention to this conversation begins to drift, rapidly. I genuinely don't have the answers to those questions, so I remain silent and unable to even look her in the eye.

The most unusual sensation rides me, one that I have, without exaggeration, never experienced before. She's got my figurative back against the wall which is something new, foreign, and feels outrageously intrusive.

A long time ago, I swore to myself that I would never give myself to anyone ever again. The results of the before shattered me so badly that every time I closed my eyes, lightning would crack behind them and my ears would ring so loudly that I couldn't even hear myself scream in terror when the nightmares tore me from my sleep.

However, this time—there's nothing. No flickers of light to fill the darkness, and no images of a small hand grabbing for me aimlessly. Me, unable to latch onto it in time. My hands aren't dripping with bright crimson, freezing droplets of hail and rain, or shaking like crazy. She's still looking at me, just like before, but this time there's no contempt, no blame. There's only understanding.

"It's not your fault." Several voices scream in unison as they fade into the back of my mind. They sound like my therapist, my parents, and this time…her.

A _lie._

It's a fucking lie. They're all lies and they all lie to me in an attempt at easing my wicked consciousness, but she's always told the truth. Jillian has always been honest about it. It's my fault, she knows it, and she hated me for what I'd done.

I'll purge it again if I have to, this sweltering, suffocating guilt on my shoulders. It feels like I'm lugging a carburetor on my back, like I'll never make it out all over again.

I close my eyes and exhale a breath that I didn't realize I was holding on to. My words shock the both of us, "Fine."

xxx

 **16 Years Ago…**

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 _She's dead._

 _She's definitely dead._

 _I hunch up even further, but there isn't enough strength in my arms to hold her anymore, especially since one of them hurts really badly. I bat it all away, I won't let her go. I'll die first._

 _The cuts on my legs sting, the rain feels like acid on my scalp, the wind is so strong—it scolds me to give up already._

 _BOOM!_

 _Thunder sounds again and I wince. It's like it's even louder than before. The sky implodes as the crooked crackle of lightning fades away, trees obstructing my full view of the scary image._

 _There are so many trees, millions of them. It's so dark and I have no idea where I'm going. That tree looks familiar, it has that huge scar down its trunk. This doesn't relieve me, because I could have sworn I already passed by it before._

 _I'm going in circles?_

 _I've been through this forest a zillion times, but I can't find my way out. Has it always been this big? The pitch black of the night and the rain is messing with my eyes, the pain is making my head fuzzy._

 _I grip her even tighter. She's so heavy…heavy like a dead body, completely limp._

 _Please just be okay._

 _Jelly isn't moving, she hasn't moved since I pulled her from the river. She hit her head really bad. I don't even know if she's breathing anymore. She was last I checked, but so much time has passed between then and now that I just don't know._

 _She's dead._

 _She looks so pale—even more than she usually does._

 _She's dead._

 _The freckles that cover her from head to toe look as if they're fading away, blending into the texture of her skin. Is that what happens when people die? Do their freckles disappear?_

 _She's dead. You've killed her._

 _I DIDN'T!_

 _You're going to die, too._

 _Am I really going to die here?_

 _I squeeze my eyes shut tightly when the roar of thunder cascades the forest once more. So loud. It hurts my head, shakes my bones. The darkness fills with light again for a split second as the thunder is joined by its old friend. Branches look like scary, grappling hands. The wind is blowing them into me, they want to grab me and keep me here forever._

 _Everything hurts. My fingers feel like ice. They both sting and burn at the same time._

 _Her head is buried into my shoulder, the hood from her yellow rain jacket hides her lifeless face from my view. I hunch her up even further when I feel her beginning to slide off my back._

 _Don't drop her, don't drop her. She's fallen too many times tonight!_

 _I hear another cracking sound, but this time, it's not followed by the anticipated light—this time there's a 'swoosh' that halts me in place. I don't know what compelled me to, but I looked up. The only thing I could see was a huge, long brown trunk of wood toppling over, aiming right for me._

 _Fear surged through my body and I lunged forward, landing flat on my face. The tree hit the ground with the most vocal crushing sound I'd ever heard. It was like if I was jumping up and down on my bed and then suddenly just stopped, allowing my body to go completely flax as my back hit the mattress—amplified. If giants were real, their footsteps would sound like that._

 _Boom!_

 _All of a sudden, I was weightless again—or carrying my own weight and no one else's. I didn't need to search around because she was right behind me._

 _I scrambled to my feet, charging over to where she laid on the ground covered in mud and withered leaves. I couldn't see her face, so I had to push at her shoulder to turn her around. When it finally came into view I stumble backwards._

 _Thunder bellows the pitch black sky as lightning crackles again, and my palms came into view. I stare at the shaky things in horror._

 _Red._

 _So much red._

 _So much that I scream—hard. My throat constricts and numbs, growing dry. I've never seen this much blood ever. I close my eyes tightly, but I can still see it!_

 _Is it mine? Hers? Her face is covered in bright crimson, she looks like something out of a slasher film. It must have been from when she hit it before. Her red hair is_ actually _red now…pure red. The blood engulfs it and makes her China bangs stick to her forehead like glue._

" _Jelly?! Please wake up!" I whispered, my arms still shaking like crazy as I tried to balance myself with one of them. I couldn't put any weight onto the other. It hurt so badly. She was so still…sprawled out on the ground like a ragdoll. The hard, beating rain pattering against her tiny face couldn't even make her eyelids tremble._

 _She's dead!_

 _My heart pounded inside of my chest, eyes were hazy. It's not the time for crying—stop crying! I need to get Jelly to my granny, she'll know what to do. She can make her better again. How much further? Have I been stuck here for minutes? Hours? Days? I feel like I'm going to fall over from how tired I am. I'm so tired. My entire body feels like it's made of lead._

 _I grab Jelly's arm and mount her onto my back again, careful not to drop her again. That's when I notice the train of blood that streaks down my blue parka and mends into my dark jeans. I almost throw up at the sight…there's so much._

 _So many directions. Which way do I go now?! What would Legolas do?_

 _Oh, who am I kidding? Legolas is an elf—he wouldn't get lost to begin with!_

 _Have to keep moving. Have to get her to granny. Have to get out of this forest. Have to find someone to help us. Have to keep Jelly alive. Have to stay alive so I can make sure that she makes it out of here. Can't die._

 _I don't even care if I die—just let her live. Please._

 _I don't want to exist in a world where she doesn't. I can't be the last thing that she saw before all the light faded from her eyes._

 _She's my best friend._

 _She's my only friend._

 _I'll do anything, give my life to her. Take mine._

 _Just let her live._

xxx

 **Jillian**

I can hear the sound of laughter and the smell of food before I even open the front door to my house. There's smooth jazz gyrating from the den, and varied conversations echoing from the kitchen. I guide Theodore through the house, all the way to the back where the sound of people exist.

No one even notices us when we enter the buzzing kitchen. My family's clearly much too tied up in whatever they're talking about. Mom said small and intimate, so that's exactly what this is—no more than ten people. Those people include a couple of aunts and uncles, all of her children, and now, the devil himself.

I glance at him, but he's too engrossed with whatever conversation Jane is having with my mother. One of his brows perks up after a statement that I didn't even manage to catch.

"Manny—what about Manny?" My sister argues with a passion.

"Gay." My mother and godmother Cheryl say in unison.

"Steven from our old choir group?" She tries again.

"Gay." They repeat the exact same way as before.

"What that heck are you talking about?" I squeak, rather loudly—and every head in the room turns at the sound.

Jane doesn't hesitate. "Apparently every guy I've ever been interested in is as gay as they come." She shrugs.

"Theodore." My mother lilts before hopping from her chair at the kitchen table. She comes over to where we stand in the doorway and without hesitation, Theodore opens his arms to her and they squeeze each other like old friends. "How are you, dear?" She asks.

He smiles back. "I've been hanging in there."

"Better than nothing." My father grunts before striding over and pulling him into a huge bear hug. "Good to see you, son."

Jane is next, she comes over to the doorway and pulls him into a brief hug before kissing his cheek, followed by Blane. "Hey Theo." Blane says, smiling widely. "Heard you got that proposal for the uh…"

"Thermonuclear waste management for industrial backlots." Theodore dictates smoothly.

"Well if that isn't the most dreadfully boring thing I've ever heard in my life I don't know what is." Jane howls before resuming her position behind the kitchen counter, preparing the remainder of the food for tonight.

My gaze lands on a familiar face at the kitchen table and I tilt my head slightly. "Penny?" I mumble skeptically.

Her eyes widen as her mouth pulls into a tight smile. "Hey Ziggs." She comes over and throws her arms over my shoulders, hugging me so tightly I nearly suffocate.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you and all, but what are you doing here?" I ask quietly as my family hounds Theodore with a game of catch up. I pull her away from them and turn my back, waiting for a response.

She gives me a hurt expression. "What, I can't have dinner with your family but sir-fucks-a-lot can?"

I can't help but snort when she points to Theodore. "Of course you're always welcome here. However, if I do recall correctly you said that you would be busy tonight—didn't you? Why the change of heart?"

I already invited her to come over a few days ago, and she water boarded me with a thirty minute explanation of how she had so much work to do at her agency. It ended with me sticking pine needles into my ears as I attempted to drown out her incessant nagging about how she finally 'gets' why I 'work until I'm blue in the face'.

"My schedule opened up." She shrugs.

Well then.

"Okay…" I chuckle. Doesn't really matter why she's here, honestly. Just glad to have her.

Jane clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Well, since were all gathered, why don't we convene to the dining room for appetizers?"

Mom's eyebrows furrow. "Where is my baby?"

Jane froze before slowly turning to face her. "He said he's…not coming, Mom. Sorry."

"He's what?" I chime in, completely thrown off by that confession.

Jane's head drops as quickly as the mood of the room does. "He still has an attitude about Blane socking him, okay?"

"You punched Delancey?" Aunt Carol asks with horror in her tone, directed towards Blane.

"In the nose. Snapped it in half I hear." Cheryl adds before offering a disapproving head shake to my older brother.

Blane's eyes roll to the back of his head. "He hit my little sister, what was I supposed to do?"

"Not break his nose." I whisper.

"Delancey hit Jilly? Wait—can someone explain to me what's going on here? I'm lost." Carol balks.

"Lance swung at Blane, I stepped between them like a dumbass and got hit—Blane broke Lance's nose."

"Still _very_ confused." Carol assures, her eyes wide.

"Lance is butt hurt, so he's not coming." Jane says, looking around the huge kitchen with the hope that everyone is on the same page.

"He would if the supposedly most mature of us wasn't so damn proud." I mumble petulantly.

Blane laughs once before finally facing me. "Ziggy, do you seriously want to defend him now?"

"You hurt his feelings! You set him up to get kicked out of the house, and then you broke his nose. He's hurt, Blane. And I'll bet you haven't tried calling him even once to see how he's doing."

He waved me off as he scratched the stubble on his jaw. "He's fine. He'll get over it."

"He's your little brother! Show a bit of compassion. He looks up to you!" I chide, shaking my head in exasperation.

"The only thing that sharp tongue little bastard looks up to is the sky when he's wasted and collapses onto the pavement."

"Well, how colorful was that picture you just painted!" I quip.

"Weren't you the one who said to stop 'babying' him?" Dad adds in rather appropriately. Yes, I did say that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not regretting pushing Lance into the shark tank, but I never envisioned the ordeal unfolding to be this…bloody.

Stupid of me, right? To go for broke, and then be surprised when my pockets turn up empty.

"Kicking him out with no money or plan is not how you teach someone responsibility, Dad."

He gave me a dead in the eyes look, and geez—it's like looking into a mirror. A very cold, frosted over mirror that doesn't like me. "You contradict yourself a lot, don't you Jillian?" Dad asks quietly.

"I second that." Theodore pipes up out of literally nowhere. I give him a pleading look, but it only serves to widen his gorgeous smile even further.

"Last I checked, that's exactly what you're supposed to do when teaching someone how to _take care of themselves!_ " Blane cuts in. I tear my attention away from Theodore, directing it back to my older brother again.

"You need to apologize to Lance." I demand. "Whether you meant for all of this to happen or not. Lance is sensitive—just apologize to him."

"Apologize for what? I didn't kick him out, and dad didn't kick him out either. His crazy ass got himself kicked out of this house. He needs to grow the hell up, and you know it!"

Jane cuts in, shocking us all. "What if what you did to him that day is the last thing? What if he _died_ tomorrow? Would you be able to live with that kind of guilt?"

"Jesus Christ, Jane—what the hell?" I breathe out shakily.

"Ziggy is right. You need to say something. When I spoke with him on the phone earlier, he wasn't himself. He sounded like someone whose family has given up on him."

"Jay—"

She holds her hand up to his face of glaring exasperation. "Don't _Jay_ me! Make this right."

"It's not my fault—"

Mom slaps her hand against the kitchen counter, and all the bickering in the room comes to a screeching halt. "I don't care whose fault it is! I refuse to have any form of celebration without every single one of my children present. _Someone_ better get my son here by the end of the night, or you're all going to have to pay hell." When she storms out of the kitchen, my father follows quickly behind her.

I exit to the den, unable to swallow the tension rising from within that room any longer.

When I feel someone approaching behind me I sigh inwardly. "Not now, Penny. I just need to be alone for a while."

A large body sinks down beside me on the couch and I turn to face him with wide eyes. "So glad you invited me. I'm having a blast so far."

I bite down on my lip. "It doesn't look like there's actually going to be any dinner tonight because Blane definitely isn't apologizing, so Lance definitely isn't coming. I didn't plan on there being this much conflict…or any conflict at all for that matter."

"Again—not complaining." He says coolly. What dismissal this man possesses. It's a wonder how he gets anything done.

"Why does everyone's grief give you such a hard-on?"

"Not everyone's…" He looks at me with cold eyes. "Just yours."

I snort out a laugh as my eyes roll, "My mistake. Here I was thinking that you were a generally sadistic prick, but there's actually a purpose to it all. How silly of me."

He rests a fist on his cheek and gives me a small smile. He looks really, really chilled out. I can't tell if it's because he's sleepy, or high. "How silly of you, indeed."

"Theodore?"

He doesn't answer immediately, but turns his head to face me when he does. There are no words; he just perks up one of those dark, neatly trimmed eyebrows.

"What's your one thing?" I ask.

He gives me a quizzical look, so I readjust to elaborate. "Your one thing. The thing that keeps you motivated, keeps you going, gets you out of the bed in the morning, makes you feel… _alive_."

"I have no such thing." He deadpans.

I expel a puff of humorous air. This guy is truly unreal. "Everyone has something."

Slowly, he shakes his head. "Not me."

"What about your family? Your desire to succeed?"

He pauses, as if thinking it over.

"I think that family is more of a customary thing as opposed to a comprehensive motivation principal. And my desire to succeed was extinguished years ago when I realized that my effort was fruitless, and I could excel with little to no effort." He explains earnestly. There's absolutely no conceitedness in his words at all—he's just being honest.

My eyes flicker all over before landing on him again. "Wow. You're uncomfortably dismissive, you know that?"

His eyes glaze over briefly in a 'yeah I know, so what?' kind of way before resting on me again, his mouth is curled into a small smile that tells me nothing. Why is he so intense…and complicated?

"Being loved is a privilege, not a statistic."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that everyone who has it, deserves it."

I clench my teeth. "Do you?"

He sighs, and oh goodness, for once in my entire life I actually see his walls visibly come down. This is definitely not the boy I've known all my entire life, not even close. "I don't think I deserve most of what I have, and yes—love is on that list."

"And do you use your desire to feel loved to fuel your anger towards me?" I try, nervously glancing up at him again. Maybe I could get something out of him while his mind is seemingly on auto-pilot.

He shrugs. "I just like hurting you. There's no deep meaning to it. And for the most part you enjoy it—so long as you're within a clear and valid mind, that is."

Well that solves nothing. I'm still confused to all hell. Also, for the hundredth time—I do not like it when he inflicts physical pain onto me.

"If it's any consolation…I like it when you hurt me, too. Feels pretty fucking great." He says nonchalantly. "Like when I bit you on the shoulder last week, and then you pinched the hell out of my back. Hurt like a bitch, but my body got all hot, my cock was standing at attention, rock hard. I wanted to turn you around, slam you against your car, pull up that skimpy little dress, and fuck you right there in the drive way so badly. "

When my mouth falls open he releases a huge, bellowing laugh that warms me from head to toe—possibly even higher than that, right at my core.

I have to look away now or he'll see how affected I am by his obscene phrasing. Why am I such a doormat? I let him walk all over me again and again without standing up for myself. Maybe if I had in the past, he wouldn't have been so compelled to exercise every drop of confidence from my body whenever he got the chance to.

"You haven't tried to sleep with me." I blurt out. "Why?"

He looks at me as if I've grown a second head. That was most likely the last thing he was expecting to come out of my mouth. "If you want me to fuck you, I'll gladly do so—just ask."

"I've never needed to ask you to before. You would just take what you wanted."

His lips curl into a half smile. "I'm not the one who's thirsty right now…you are."

What a chauvinistic son of a bitch?! He's not even answering the damn question, either.

"I really, really don't like you."

"Really didn't seem like that when you axed my door open and offered to suck my cock if I would come over to your house a little while ago."

"Because you're stubborn." I shake my head. "Athletes."

Theodore taps his foot on the carpet as he stares at me. I can see his lingering gaze in my peripheral, hear the beat of his hard, winter boot as it rapped at the carpet.

"Come here." He commands quietly.

I bite down on my lip, hard, before the compulsion to do as he says overwhelms me like it has countless times before. I slide closer to him on the plush cushions until I'm nudged completely into his side. My Garfield pajama pants rub against the fabric of his gray trousers.

He takes both my legs and slings them over one of his before pulling me onto his lap. I try my best and fail to avoid his patronizing stare. His eyes are so, so magnificent. They're just the bluest, most pristine things I've ever seen.

"Jillian?" He says softly.

I finally look at him, and it doesn't quell the sharp pang in my heart even a little bit. If anything, it's amplified.

"I have never _once_ hurt you without your permission. Everything that I've ever done to you—you've let me. You know that, right?"

My eyes began to burn as his words sunk in.

Oh no.

He repeats himself, "Right?"

My bottom lip quivered, and I had to look away. "Yes, but—"

"But what? Speak up." He asks gently, his voice so soothing and calm.

"But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt all the same." I croaked as the tears began to fall. Damn it.

Theodore's silent gaze browsed over me. "You've taken so much from me, Theodore. I want something from you."

"I have nothing to give." He promises.

"Then give me you."

He clears his throat, awkwardly saying, "Beg your pardon?"

I decide to go for the kill. Just let it all out Jillian—don't let it slip through the cracks anymore. Be forward. "Give me all that you are, leave nothing behind. I've already surrendered everything that I am to you. It's time to reciprocate."

His eyes widened even more if possible. I took his face between my hands and steadied his unsteady, wavering glance with my own. "I want nothing from you. I want you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **Theodore**

 **16 Years Ago…**

"Grandma and Grandpa have been dying to see you too, Teddy."

At the sound of my name, my eyes drift to the front of the car and lock onto my mothers, looking back at me with an amused expression. One elbow sits on the center console between the driver and passenger seat, and the leather makes a squeaking sound when she leans onto it.

"I'm dying to see them too." I assure as I match her wide smile.

"Not more than I am!" Phoebe pouts from my right as she squeezes her huge brown teddy bear between her arms. I chuckle at the small, snow white stuffed toy as she holds on for dear life even in this confined space where there's no chance of losing it. I won it for her at the carnival a few months ago, and since then she refuses to part with it. I'm pretty sure she even takes it into the bathtub with her.

"It's not a contest, Feebs." Dad admonishes from the driver's seat without taking his gaze off the zipping road. Out of my window, I see trees mend into buildings, then back into trees again as he get closer to the Everpoint bridge. I anticipate the sight of clear, blue water as the suspended contraption whisks us across the long, seemingly endless path, packed with hundreds of other cars going about their normal, Friday evening day.

"Your father is right." Mom concurs.

"Everything is a contest with her." I sigh.

"Daddy! Teddy bear is making fun of me!"

"I am not…"

Dad's eyes meet mine in the rearview for the briefest of seconds. "Be nice to your sister Theodore."

I roll my eyes. "She's such a drama queen."

"She gets that from your father." Mom chuckles, then quickly bites her lip when she turns her gaze to dad.

I look at my baby sister and she ever so discreetly sticks her tiny little tongue out at me. "Very mature." I whisper. Even at the age of eight she was a walking, talking firecracker. She clings to me like a leech most of the time, and if she doesn't see me or hear from me more than a few hours, she'll throw a fit. I never imagined that having a younger sibling would be this much effort, but honestly—I wouldn't trade her for anything in the whole world.

I reach over and ruffle her nicely done hair until it's all frizzy. Instead of getting angry she smiles a really big, nearly toothless smile and her laugh warms my heart. She buries her little nose into the top of her teddy bears head to quiet her little giggles.

Not even ten minutes later and we're pulling up to my grandparent's home in Bellevue. Dad is the first to hop out of the car and he jogs around the car to the trunk.

"Phoebe, who is that?" Mom asks as she directs Phoebe's attention out the rolled down window. Grandma is already heading down the driveway towards the car.

"Granny!" Phoebe squeals before unbuckling her seatbelt and practically combat diving out of the car. She sprints over to grandma and wraps her arms around her midsection.

From inside the car, I can't hear what they're talking about, but from the look on Grandma's loving face, she's happy to see my little sister.

"Go say hello to your Grandmother, Teddy." Mother admonishes.

I hop out of the car, slumping my backpack over my shoulders before sauntering up the driveway.

Grandma's arms are already spread open for me as I approach her. "How's my big boy doing?"

"Misunderstood." I grumble.

Grandma cocks an eyebrow down at me. "That so?"

"Someone's a little testy because we pulled him away from his PlayStation in the middle of a session." My father pipes in. He comes up beside us and places my and Phoebe's suitcase on the gravelly walkway before pulling Grandma into a hug. "Hi Mom." He smiles.

Mother comes up behind me, pulling my back to her front and squeezing me into her. "Don't be condescending with your Grandma, Teddy."

I sigh deeply, wondering why I was being lectured so much today. "Sorry…"

"Where's Grandpa?" Phoebe whines as she glances around the empty front lawn, as if he's hiding in one of the bushes that line the sidewalk.

"He's still at work pumpkin, but should be home shortly." Grandma explained.

"Grace, I finally got around to reading that book you recommended to me…" Mother began, and I somehow managed to wiggle out of her grasp, grabbed my suitcase and began towards the house.

"Not even a goodbye?" Father calls out. I turn around swiftly and raise my arm, waving at him.

"Bye." I said unenthusiastically.

I was rewarded with a brief smile and a head shake before he returned his attention to Grandma. It wasn't like my father to look for a farewell after dropping us off at grandma and grandpa's house. He usually always came in for a brief hug, and then our mother, a more strenuous, drawn out hug—then they'd go. Didn't bother me much, though…my mother and father were smothering, yes, but they were the good kind of smothering. There was never too much or too little of it.

Weekends at our Grandparents house was becoming the norm for me, or at least one less thing I had to complain about regarding my boring life. However this week, it's Spring break, so Phoebe and I will be here until next Sunday. That means a full week of staring out the window during the foggy nights, listening to my grandparent's endless stories in the den while they stuff me full of snacks, and an impending attempt at weening my obsessive little sister off of cookies and gummy bears when we finally return home.

Mostly, while I'm here I play video games all day and watch all the Lord of the Rings movies out of order. Then, Star Wars—out of order, of course—after that was a written word marathon…comic books until my eyes grew sore and begged me to stop. Right now, I'm halfway through Spiderman episode #115. Gwen Stacy is in a pickle, and she may even be on the verge of obtaining super powers…I'm pegging on it.

I was so close to the end of the chapter this morning before Mrs. Valentine, my English teacher caught me reading under my desk during one of her classes about how important feelings are. I felt like I was listening to a guidance counselor attempting to imbed self-worth into a delinquent. 3rd grade was a maze for me, a maze I could never hope to navigate. I miss the days where all that was expected of me was being able to write my name in cursive and count to 100.

Yeah, I'm into the nerdy stuff, and I don't really talk to anyone about it. My classmates are just that…my classmates. I don't have any friends, though everyone my age seems to be bizarrely interested in making friends with me. My older cousin Ava said it's because I'm 'A Grey', but I don't know what that means. Plus, Ava is a bit of a manipulator…she's loud and scary. I told her this one day, mentioning how 'new' people make me uncomfortable, and was rewarded with a brief but sticky statement.

"Don't let them get too close Teddy, they're all just after your inheritance." Ava grumbles menacingly from atop the treehouse in her backyard. She was _always_ up there. That day had been especially weird, what with all the parental lectures about talking to strangers and Uncle Elliot arguing with my Dad about politics and the like. I looked up at my big cousin with boredom, wondering how she manages to be so incoherent and profound simultaneously.

Sure I'll eat lunch with whoever asks, smile and make conversation—piece of cake, but usually I prefer to keep to myself. And surprisingly enough, it's not because of her warning, I just choose to be aloof.

Grandma and Grandpa have a big house, and it's filled with things to do. Phoebe especially likes jumping around in the backyard on the tennis court. The ground is really spongy, and it has a lot of spring to it, so she tends to spend hours out there running around, playing make-believe.

But it's not the house that keeps me entertained on the long weekends I spend cooped up here with my grandparents and their stories, nope—it's what's a few miles down the valley that dips into the Sound where this old house is located atop. Behind the billowing trees that eclipse the sun every morning before bursting over the horizon, there's a sea of woodland landscape that surrounds the neighborhood.

I lug my suitcase up the stairs to my bedroom, my dad's old bedroom when he lived here. I've revamped it though, and it's mostly filled with all of my stuff with hints of his. I close the door behind me, going over to the radio on my dresser I turn the sound up to a reasonable volume before gathering everything I'll need.

If I sneak out now, Grandma will be least likely to notice. She'll be way too busy with Phoebe to even notice how 'quiet' I am. I load my backpack with all the necessary amenities before opening the door and closing it behind me. I creep down the stairs, careful not to make too much noise, hearing Phoebe and Grandma in the living room laughing about something while the television runs. Guess mom and dad already left—not much reason for them to stay anyway. My grandparents know that I like to be holed up in my room the whole weekend, so they rarely ever come bother me, and I'm never usually out of the house very long, so they don't notice that I'm gone.

I tiptoe to the backdoor before opening and pulling it shut behind me. Balor forest isn't far at all, only a 5 minute walk from the house.

Last weekend, I saw this awesome lizard that I failed to capture. It was bright orange with spots all down its back. My goal this week? Find and catch it this time.

The cedar trees tower over my head as I approach the woods. The dark brown chips beneath my feet crunch with every step I take. No signs, no maps, no fences lining the entrance of the Forest, this is the outskirts of it after all—no one comes this way.

There's a creek just beyond the entrance of the forest, that's where I saw the lizard last time. Maybe I should try checking there first. If not, I can always try the river, though it's deeper in the forest that the creek, a way longer walk.

Balor Forest is mostly a tourist attraction now-a-days, but I just so happen to be on the edge of the forest where there are no tourist buses or hikers, which is both unfortunate and great. Less people, more alone time—kind of dangerous, but I'm not stupid. I can handle myself.

I jump down the canopy of rocks to reach the basin of the creek, basking in the sound of the hissing water beneath my feet and I scan the greenish blue water. I crouch down at the edge and dip my hand into the water, checking for the temperature. It's cold—really cold. Which means that there probably won't be a lot of lizards here today.

Lizards are cold-blooded, so naturally, they like being where it's hot. Looks like I'll have to try the river. But if the creek is cold, the river is most likely freezing. Not a lot of luck there. I wipe my hands on my shorts and groan loudly.

The hike to the river is as expected…long, but I'm there in a little under ten minutes as I keep to the poorly drawn out path.

It's loud…that familiar swishing sound could be heard from over a mile away, but it's calming. I stand at the cliff overlooking the huge river that pours into the lake beneath it, searching every possible direction for my payout. The water is so clear that I can see the rocks undulating across the bed of the river, see fishes plopping and sliding across the rushing water.

Please tell me that I don't have to climb all the way down there.

The rocks under my sneakered feet are mossy and hot, telling me that there's a very good chance that the river might be warm. And where there's warmth…there are reptiles.

I scratch my low cut hair as I look for possible alternatives to going down there.

 _You could jump._

Yeah right. That's a really big fall, and I mean a really big one, and the water isn't deep enough either. Plus, I've got my cellphone on me.

 _Scale the wall._

Again, not interested in falling to my death.

 _Go all the way around the forest and climb down like the tourist do._

That would take hours, and I've got about one hour before my grandma tells me to come downstairs for dinner. In fact, probably less than an hour considering the long walk it will take to get back.

"Are you an angel?"

I turn around so quickly that I nearly stumble backwards. What greets me is something so strange and alien-like that it causes me to almost slip and fall over the cliff and into the river below. The pebbles at my feet clack and tumble down the wall of the trench, echoing through the huge labyrinth of pine trees that form around it.

It was almost like it materialized behind me from nothing. I didn't hear footsteps, breathing, not a sound. Just the quiet of the forest, some birds chirping, the occasional twig breaking from squirrels hurrying up trees, and the cicadas as they cried in the far, far distance.

For a brief moment I thought that quite possibly someone's head was housing a flame, that was until I deduced how incredibly unlikely that was. It was close enough though, that hair—red hair—so red. It really does look like fire. The subtle wind even blew at it so that it seemed to dance in that similar affectation. Short and wild with pine needles and pieces of leaves all throughout it, it looked like a bird had begun building its nest there.

Then the eyes, eyes so green and bright that they made the leaves on the trees look brown even in the middle of Spring by comparison. I blinked when she did, and she tilted her head at me as she stood there, a couple of steps away with a heap of branches tucked in her arms.

"Well are you or aren't you?" She pressed.

I gave her a once-over, unsure about how to respond. "I don't understand the question." I shrugged.

Her tiny little nose crinkled before she spoke again. "You don't look like a human. You look like an angel. Are you?"

My family isn't very religious, so I don't know a whole lot about angels and stuff, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not one.

Still didn't completely understand what she meant, though. "Pretty sure that I'm not an angel."

"Oh." She said simply, her voice was so soft and small that I could barely hear her over the rushing water below. Her clothes were all dirty with mud and wood chips and grass stains from the forest floor. She wore a pair of tattered red shorts; her legs skinny and covered in scabs from where she's probably fallen down or rubbed up against something hard and gravelly. I cringed at the scrapes on her knees. She looked like a feral child, and if I hadn't heard her speak just then I'd assume she was one.

"Are you an alien?" She tried.

To be completely honest, she looked more like the alien here between us. I've never seen anyone with hair as red as hers before, and her skin was so pale that she looked like a ghost.

"Last time I checked, I was a person." I said earnestly, nodding my assurance.

"Well if you _were_ an alien, would you say it?" She asked.

My eyes drifted as I considered. "That would depend on if my alien overlord deems it appropriate."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "So how do I know if you're lying or not?"

I shrugged. "You don't."

"Touché." She said swiftly. Then she turned, and walked away without another word with all of her branches and sticks in hand.

That was _weird_.

I don't know what's more off putting, the fact that she thought I wasn't a human being, or the fact that she used the word 'touché' as a rebuttal. Most kids my age don't even know what that word is, and she definitely looked to be my age.

I've never seen that girl before. There's no way I'd forget someone that weird. Where did she even come from? I glanced in the direction that she'd just disappeared from, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

What if _she's_ the alien? Trippy.

Shaking off the strange encounter, I began circling the perimeter of the river. The air was murky and hot, which was more than enough motivation to keep looking, but I hadn't the slightest clue where the heck these lizards could be. Last time, I found it sitting on a rock in the creek near the back of the forest, but today it was completely empty, void of all signs of life.

The creek was small, so when it got cold, it became unbearable for most creatures to live in and survive. I was beginning to think that my effort was in vain after another twenty minutes of blinding searching for something that may or may not even be here.

After another hour filled with emptiness and irritation, I finally decide to head home and come back tomorrow. However, not without grabbing a few cool looking rocks and stuffing them in my bag.

 **xxx**

"Hey!" Someone yelled.

I recognize that voice, turn around, and am met with nothing. I stop in my tracks along the path, looking all around. The forest is desolate, there isn't even a single bird. I see no one, and now I hear nothing again, the echo from that familiar voice has faded beyond the hollow trees like ripples in a pond. I'm halfway to the river again, taking the same path that I did yesterday. The creek was empty, once again—why do I even bother? I've considered going all the way around the forest to get to the lake, that's where I assumed I'd find the lizards.

I clutch the straps of my backpack tightly, my eyes still searching in every direction. Did I imagine it?

"Up here!" It comes again, blowing that theory away.

Immediately, my head flies up and I lock eyes with that bizarre looking ghostly creature, hair still fiery, like autumn…like the wild.

She's dangling from one of these gigantic pine trees like a chimpanzee, pulls herself up and begins to climb down to one of the lower branches, then perches herself onto it with ease. She swings her feet as she stares down at me with curiosity etching those small, delicate features.

"How the heck did you get up there?" I asked.

"I climbed up the trunk."

"You don't say." She makes it sound like something that just anyone can do. "Are you a monkey?"

"Possibly in a past life, yes."

"Well, good luck with being half person, half monkey then…" I rolled my eyes, turning to walk away.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked, halting me with her mellow lull.

I turned around and craned my neck to look up at her again. "Didn't your parents teach you never to talk to strangers?"

"Didn't _your_ parents teach you never to go wandering around in a forest all by yourself?" She deadpanned.

Okay…that made me snicker a little bit. But couldn't that also be applied to her, too? "Touché." I saluted.

"So, are you lost again?"

I felt my eyebrows scrunch together. "I never get lost. And even if I did, what are the odds I would do it two days in a row?"

She shrugged before leaning back against the trunk. "No one comes out here unless they're lost. I can always show you the way back." Is she supposed to be a forest elf? She certainly looks like one. In fact, she could easily pass for Tauriel from Lord of the Rings. That is if Tauriel was extremely tiny and covered with dirt.

I ignored her offer. "Do you live in this forest or something?"

"Pretty much." She nodded.

"How come I've never seen you before yesterday, then?" I've been in and out of this forest like, a lot—and I've never ran into another person before.

"I could ask you the same question…"

Wow, this kid is intense. "I asked you first."

She seemed to consider that, like it was so hard to ponder over. "My mommy likes to spend time in the tourist cabin at the west entrance, but she only just started to last week." She pointed to what I'm assuming was the west, then she redirected that finger at me. "Your turn."

"My grandparent's live a few miles that way." Now, it was my turn to point, and I did so in the direction that I came from. "I only visit them on the weekends, though."

She nodded her head with understanding. "Where are you from?"

"Washington Park."

"Is that before or after Queen Anne?" She asked.

I'm guessing she's from Queen Anne. "After."

"I see. So what are you doing out here, angel boy from Washington Park?"

I sighed. "Why do you keep calling me an angel?"

She pointed at me again. "You're clothes are really clean, your eyes look like the color of the sky, your face is really pretty—like an angel."

That is probably the strangest compliment I've even gotten before. "Thanks…I guess?" I scratched my head, my eyes finding the ground where my white, spotless sneakers sat on my feet. I guess my clothes are kind of clean most of the time. It's actually amazing considering how much time I spend out here. I should probably be as dirty as she is that this point. "I'm just…looking for reptiles."

Her eyes seemed to glitter at that statement. "What kinds of reptiles? Frogs? Snakes?"

I rubbed the back of my neck tiredly. "Lizards. Well—a specific lizard…It's orange, with dark spots down its back."

"Notophthalmus viridescens."

"Noto…what—who?" I stammered incredulously. What did she just say? She repeated herself for me, but it didn't make any more sense than it did the first time. "What the heck is a notofalamus?" I grumbled.

She giggled with that tiny voice her hers. "Eastern newt. It's a part of the Urodela order, and it's a salamander…not a lizard. Salamanders are amphibians, lizards are reptiles. Not the same thing." She held both hands out to illustrate their differences, emphasize how they're in two completely different categories.

I blinked once, completely speechless. I have…no idea what she's talking about. "I see."

"Yep."

I scratched my head for what felt like the hundredth time today. "How old are you?"

"I'm nine." She said with a big, toothless smile. Seriously, both of her front two veneers were missing, and she was also missing two from her bottom row as well. "If you want, I can take you to where all the amphibians are." She pointed somewhere behind her. "Most of them hang out by the river the empties into the lake."

I shook my head. "It takes forever to get down there, though."

"Forever if you go all the way around, but I know a shortcut." She said with pride in her voice.

"Okay…" I said flatly, watching with unwarranted concern as she hastily scaled down the tree like she's done it a million times before.

She landed smoothly on her feet in front of me, and nudged her head to the side. "This way."

Against my better judgement, I followed loosely behind her, silently wondering how she manages to navigate around this place after only being here for less than a week. But after mounting terrain like a professional, climbing over enormous trenches and hopping across small ponds, I hear the sound of rushing water once again, and as she pulls aside a huge pocket of mossy tree branches for me, the river comes into view. I can see the waterfall that pours into the lake below it, it was so close.

"Whoa…You weren't kidding about a shortcut were you?" It only took about ten minutes to get down here, I know because I was checking my phone the entire time. I stand at the edge of the river and look down into the whisking tides.

"You probably won't see the species you're looking for by the way." She came up beside me and fixed her gaze where mine was, then glanced at me. "They're in their breeding season—all of them have gone to the bottom of the lake to find mates." She pointed at the lake to our right and I followed her eyes to it.

I looked at her again. "Are you a super genius like those kids on TV or something?" I asked.

Her eyes widened. "I don't think I'm a genius." Then, she looked down, seemingly chastened. "Not even close."

The bright haired girl turned away and began to jump across the stones that led to the other side of the river. I followed close behind, and when she pointed at a spot in the water, I crouched down beside her. "Those are Notophthalmus perstriatus, very closely related to the viridescens."

I watched the swarm of salamanders glide through the water and occasionally jump to the surface like trout. They looked really similar to the kind I was looking for, orange, only with stripes instead of spots. One in particular was perched on rock very close to us and I reached out to catch it.

The girl surprised me when she wrapped her tiny hands around my arm and pulled it back to my side. "What?"

She crinkled her nose again. "It's skin is kind of…very poisonous. Not best to grab it with your bare hands."

"Why do you know so much about these things?" I asked, throwing a disturbed look her way.

"I read a lot." She muttered, then peeked over at me through her eyelashes. "I want to be a doctor, or a zoologist…not sure which yet."

"Zoologists can be doctors. It depends on how long you go to school." I explained.

She shot an amused expression my way. "True, true. What do you want to be?"

I rolled my eyes… _hard_. "My dad wants me to work for him when I'm older. So I'll probably do—"

"I didn't _ask_ what your dad wants you to do…" She said nastily, as if she fully and completely understands how I feel. "My question was what do _you_ want to do."

I stared into her steady green eyes, which I suddenly noticed from this close of a distance, have a lot more blue in them than I thought…a really weird color. Her face was also _flooded_ with freckles, and they reached all the way down to her neck and disappeared into the hem of her Elmo T-shirt.

"I want to be a director."

Her expression changed to one of pure fascination. "Like for movies?"

I nodded once, then waited for the criticism. It never came, though.

"Wow, that's so cool…like Steven Spielberg."

I cleared my throat. "George Lucas actually—"

She made a funny face. "Who's that?"

Why I felt entirely comfortable with speaking to this strange person, I will never understand, but for some reason she made me feel…calm. Maybe it was the river, actually…don't know. However I was sharing something with her that I've never told anyone before—not even my little sister who I was closest with.

"George Lucas created Star Wars…" I explained. "He's kind of my idol. I want to make the next big sci-fi adventure series, like he did."

"Star Wars…" She pondered, and I could practically see the tiny little gears grinding in her head as she did. "I don't know what that is…"

 _Oh boy…!_

I could hardly contain my excitement, "It's _awesome_ is what it is!"

She jump when my voice raised. "Never heard of it…"

"You have to watch all them, well the first three—everything after that is just playful banter. Kind of fell off at The Clone Wars, and was destroyed at The Phantom Menace. Honestly, I thought that Empire Strikes Back was the best, hands down, but my little cousin Benny is crazy about A New Hope, he says that it's the best but then again he's an idiot. After all, Empire is where we finally get a better look at Vader and his real power, where he goes in and force chokes all the—"

"Whoa! Slow down, dude! You're killing my earholes! That is what my daddy calls information overload." She whined.

I shook my head. "You just have to see them. I can bring my laptop tomorrow and show you—if you want." I added on at the end, looking at her…suddenly nervous for some reason.

"Okay, sure." She smiled huge, those gaps in her teeth showing again.

I don't know why, but before I could even process it, I was already smiling back her. She was kind of…really adorable. Something about her was almost cartoonish.

"I'm Theodore…my name I mean…is Theodore."

She stood and extended her hand to me like a grown up. "Captain Ziggy—nice to meet you."

I blinked once, still crouched, looking up at her without a clue in the world. "What?"

Her sudden burst of laughter made me laugh as well. It was infectious. "My name is Ziggy."

I stood and took her hand, shaking it. "That's a weird name, is it your real one?"

"Nickname," She assured. "My real name is Jillian…after my great grandmother. Everyone calls me Ziggy. My big sister gave it to me from a comic strip that she really likes."

"I'll just call you Jillian. Ziggy sounds weird."

She shrugged, seemingly unaffected by my words. "Suit yourself…want to go find snakes? I know which ones aren't venomous. They're really fun to hold, they squirm around a lot."

This kid is also a daredevil. "Wow, you're weird." I grumbled. "Sure, let's go."

 **xxx**

The next day, I was back in the forest again, wandering around aimlessly.

Looking for her.

I really had no other reason to be out today, but I'm so excited to introduce someone to Star Wars that I can barely contain it. It took me an hour of satisfying my grandparent's ego's before they finally left me alone. And after spending all day with them at Seattle Center, bored and wanting to just go home, I had to tame the storm that is their food stuffing. Phoebe had a blast, though, and with her happy little jitters as we ran all over town doing whatever she wanted, I concluded that it was well worth it. My baby sister is a true angel. There's nothing more pure in this whole world.

Now, after finally getting the opportunity to squeeze out of the house, just barely under my grandfather's nose who was in the backyard playing tennis with Phoebe, I made it to the forest.

And Jillian is nowhere to be found.

It only just now occurred to me how big this forest is, but I've already ran into her twice so far which is beyond a coincidence. I didn't think it would be this difficult to find her though. However after a good thirty minutes of going in circles, back tracking to all of the places I've run into her before, I resigned to the fact that she may not be out today.

That resignation didn't last too long though, because after another few minutes of blindly searching along the trail deep, deep in the woods, I saw her.

She was standing outside of a poorly built log structure that looked like it's seen way better days. It was old and looked haunted, but she seemed to be unfazed by the ominousness that lingered around the small, creepy cabin.

"This your house?" I asked as I came up beside her.

"Funny." Was all she offered without even looking at me. She bent over and picked up the bundle of sticks at her feet and brought them up to the side of the log wall, stuffing them into one of the broken off, exposed crevices. "This is one of the old campsites from years ago. No one uses it anymore, so they stopped maintaining it." She explained as she grabbed more sticks and used them to patch up open areas near the ground, pushing them forcefully so that they'd stay in place.

"You ever seen that movie Cabin in the Woods?" I deadpanned.

She finally turned around and looked at me, brushing her palms together to rid them of the dirt. "You really watch a lot of movies, don't you?"

I feigned a deep thinking expression. "I've seen over…four hundred so far? I want to see at least five thousand before I die."

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "I've never seen that movie, but I'm guessing that it doesn't have a happy ending from the name."

"Yeah, they all die. So this is what you were doing with all of those sticks the other day? Patching up an old tree house?"

"It's not just any old treehouse. It's my ship, and I'm the Captain!"

Ah, so that's what she meant by calling herself that yesterday. "Well captain, your first mate is reporting for duty—"

"My first order!" She squeaked, pointing at me with the conviction of a grave robber on her face. "We shall watch your star movies, and then we shall man the fort from intruders! We shall sail out onto the unforgiving treacherous seas and slay the beasts that lie within the murky deep. Aye?"

I straightened a bit. "Aye aye, captain!"

 **xxx**

I feel like a different person since meeting Jillian. Why can't all people be like her? She's really funny and way smarter than me, sometimes I don't understand what she's talking about because she uses big words. But for some reason I can't help but hang onto everything that exits her mouth like it's gospel or something. She may be weird, but it's a good kind of weird. I think that's what drew me to her instead of ignoring her altogether, which is what I'd usually do with pretty much anyone else. I was so interested in understanding something so out of the ordinary, and once I peeked down the rabbit hole, I slipped and fell in—now there's no way out. And…I think I'm kind of okay with that.

She's so freaking cool.

"Something on your mind, Teddy?"

I looked up quickly and found grandpa staring at me, a concerned look on his face. "I'm fine." I shrugged, then went back to my comic book. I wasn't actually reading it though. It was freezing cold outside today, so I opted to stay inside. In reality though, I wanted to hang out with Jillian in our treehouse. We finally managed to patch the whole thing up, but it had no heat inside and in this weather would basically be like an ice box.

I was just thinking about what she was doing right now, wishing I could text her but she doesn't have a cell phone.

Grandpa pushed the door open further and stepped inside. "You've been spending an awful lot of time alone in your room this week. Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine."

"You know your father was the same when he was your age. Really liked to be left alone for the most part."

I shot him a curious look. "Really?"

"Of course. He was really shy, and he would only open up to your aunt Mia. It reminds me so much of you and Phoebe now. No matter what mood you're in, she always manages to make you smile."

I felt warmness creep across my face at his observation. "I never noticed I did that."

He laughed loudly and it made me jump, then came over and sat at the foot on my bed. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, son. You love your little sister, not out of the ordinary. Who doesn't love Phoebe?"

I shrugged. "Crazy people."

"You make sure to protect her from all the idiots out there because when she gets older, she'll be a force to be reckoned with, alright?"

I felt my entire body turn to ice. "If anyone ever hurts Phoebe, I'll eviscerate them."

Grandpa's eyes widened into saucers. "Eviscerate, huh? Where'd you learn that word?"

I only faintly remember hearing Jillian say it the other day when we were watching Star Wars episode 4. She practically screamed at my laptop and shook the screen when one of the AT-AT walkers went down during the battle of Hoth.

I paused the movie and turned to her. We were inside the small, empty cabin, huddled up in the corner furthest from the door with the laptop sitting on the wooden paneled floor in front of us. "What the heck is eviscerated?"

"Destroyed! Massacred! KABOOM!" She screeched, her eyes alight with so much joy that I fell onto my back laughing. "This is so awesome! Play! Hit play!"

I returned my attention back to Grandpa and made a nonchalant face. There's no way I can tell him that I learned the word from some random girl that I met in the forest a few days ago. "I read it in one of my books." I held up the comic in my hand, X-Men #338.

"You're probably the smartest kid I've ever seen, you know that? You're going to do great things when you're older."

I bit down on my tongue. Seriously, he's got to meet Jillian one day—she'll knock his socks off. "Thanks Grandpa." I muttered.

"Start getting ready to head out, will you? We don't want to miss the curtain call." He said after he patted my shoulder. I groaned in my head, I didn't want to go see a play…I wanted to hang with Jillian again. I crammed in all back into my mouth though, complying peacefully.

 **xxx**

Jillian was absent from the treehouse today. It was Sunday and I had school tomorrow, so my parents were going to be picking me up, meaning I wouldn't get to see her again until next weekend.

For some reason that made me feel sick to my stomach. I'd be alone again, in the quiet confines of my mind until I saw her next Friday and she could finally fill that silence with her endless chatter.

The kid loved to talk, and she had _so_ much to say, too. Some of it was interesting, some not so much, but I liked hearing it all.

I searched around the forest for her, in the spots we usually venture to. The river was clear, so was the lake, and the creek by the west entrance, as well as the canopy that sits beneath the Sound, where most of the wildlife nest. Jillian really likes that spot.

She's not out today. Even if I'm not good at navigating this forest, she definitely is—and she would have found me by now if she were out here. She always does.

Bummer.

My mother helps to unpack my things when were back at home, sorting out all the clothes that she'll wash for me. "Did you have fun?" She whispers, a huge smile on her face as she looks down at me on the floor in my bedroom, rummaging through my suitcase.

I gaze up at her, then back down to my knees, and a small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah…I did."

 **xxx**

"I've been thinking," Jillian says matter-of-factly.

I gave her a shocked expression. "You? Thinking? This is such news."

She snapped her fingers at me and I smiled huge. "Hey! Leave the sarcasm to me, okay?"

I held up my arms in a defeated way, my enormous smile refusing to fade. Jillian turned around and began climbing the huge tree. When she reached the lowest branch, she settled on it then reached out a hand to me. "Come on, already! Just hook your fingers into the bark—you can do it, it's easy."

I stay firmly planted on the ground, looking up at her. "Unlike you, I was probably a whale in a past life. As opposed to a monkey…or a koala. Climbing isn't really one of my greatest strengths."

"Big baby!" She squeaked.

"I'm older than you." I deadpan.

"Just do it! Grab onto the sides—I won't let you fall." She added on at the end, like maybe she was considering letting me fall before that statement.

I let out a tired gust of air, but finally swallowed my pride, latching onto the tree and scraping my way up, one branch at a time. Finally, within arm's reach, I grabbed her little hand and she pulled me onto the branch beside her.

"Yay!" She cheered, clapping excitedly. "Good job."

I looked down with wide eyes. Why is the ground so far away? "This is…this is high."

Jillian grabbed my face in her hands and forced me to meet those greenish blue eyes. "It helps if you don't look down." She promised.

I nodded, "So you were…uh, thinking?"

"Oh yeah! Your name is Theodore, right? Don't you have a nickname?"

I blinked at her, confused. "Of course."

She blinked back, and then there was a long pause. "Well what is it?!" She asked finally.

I turned away. "I don't want to say. I don't like it."

"You don't like what? Your nickname? What's wrong with it?"

"It's stupid, okay?"

"Just tell me." She demanded.

I could feel my face contort with discomfort. " _Teddybear_." I whispered quickly.

She moved closer to me, pressed her shoulder to mine and brought her face so close to mine our cheeks were almost touching, "What?"

I turned quickly to face her and she jumped back. "Teddy bear! My nickname is Teddy bear, okay? It's what everyone in my family calls me." I said, annoyed.

She made a face. "That's not so bad. I thought it would be like…schnookums, or booboo. I mean…my big brother calls me munchkin. He says it's because I'm so small and cute like a little munchkin." She rolls her eyes, but is smiling all the while. "Why don't you like Teddy bear?"

I shrug. "It's childish."

"You're a child, aren't you? Don't you think it fits? Or are you secretly thirty years old and never age? You certainly have the personality of an adult, all grumpy and quiet all the time."

"It's just…" I thought about it for a moment. "How would you feel if someone mixed up your real name and made it into something childish and weird? Like…Jeddy, or Jummy, or Jelly, or something? It's stupid. It sounds nothing like my real name."

"I love Jelly. It's sticky and sweet. I love it best with peanut butter on bread."

She could not be serious. "Are you even hearing me?"

"I like Teddy, though, it suits you...minus the bear."

I grimaced. "Fine then. If you call me Teddy, I'm gonna call you Jelly."

She thought about that for a moment. "That's alright with me… _Teddy_."

 **xxx**

 **Two Months Later…**

Jelly came bursting through the treehouse and stormed up to me with a fury brewing on her bespeckled face. "The hell is wrong with you?" I yelled, eyes wide.

"My daddy hates me." She squeaked, annoyed.

I closed my comic book and placed it on the floor before standing. With a deep breath, I calmly asked, "What are you _talking_ about?"

"He hates me Teddy. He wishes I was never born." She crossed her arms and pouted.

"He's told you this?"

"He doesn't have to."

Is she just being dramatic? No…that's not like her at all. She's disturbingly literal. "Assumptions are dangerous things, Jelly."

She threw her arms up exasperatedly. "I'm not assuming, I know it! He's always so mean to me, he likes my older siblings way more, especially Blane."

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. "Does he hit you a lot?" I asked, and felt relief wash over me when she shook her head. "What did he say that makes you think he hates you?"

"It's not what he says…it's how he looks at me. Like I was a mistake."

I couldn't help but think that she was maybe overreacting. I mean, aren't all fathers a little cold and distant with their children? My father isn't overly emotional either, that's my mother's job. "I'm sure that he doesn't hate you. He's probably just…having a hard time at work? Whenever my dad has a lot of work to do, he kind of zones out on me and my sister."

She shook her head again. "No, it's not the same. Daddy is always working, and it doesn't make him happy either, he's always tired when he gets home. It's not work that makes him not like me, he just doesn't like me."

Jelly finally sat down at my feet, snatching up the bag of Doritos and stuffing a few in her mouth. I couldn't miss the little sniffles that escaped after a second or two, subtly wracking her shoulders. I sat down again, unsure of what to say or do.

She was looking down, but I could still see tears stream down her little face and it confused me so much. I've never seen Jelly cry before…it wasn't a fun sight.

"Don't cry, please." I begged, my voice unrecognizable. I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.

"I'm not crying!" She hiccupped, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

I thought about how I could make her feel better, but honestly I had no clue. The only person I've ever had to comfort while crying is my little sister, and she usually only started crying over stupid things and would stop less than a minute later.

"My parent took me to the doctor a year ago, because I had an incident at Phoebe's friend's birthday party. I don't know why, but I got really, really mad at this kid because he bumped into me and spilled juice on my shirt. I just…blew up. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, because I was fine before. I didn't even feel angry, my head just went boom! I got so mad…and it just kept happening again and again for the next few weeks. I would get angry…at nothing!"

"Intermittent explosive disorder." I sighed, hating the fact that I have to say it out loud. "I have actual, literal, anger management issues. That's why I spend so much time alone, because when I'm around other people I never know what they'll say or do to trigger me since it's so unexpected and random."

Jelly gives me a wide eyes look, her mouth hanging open. "Do you like, scream and yell?"

I shake my head. "No, never, it's always contained anger, but it makes my brain feel like it's on fire. It's gotten a lot better lately, but if I'm not careful, or if I lose focus for even one minute… _boom_."

"Have I ever made you angry?" She asks sadly.

Unbelievably so, she hasn't. It's incredible, actually. No matter how long she drones on, no matter what she does or says, it doesn't annoy me. "No. Not even once. But I have been really angry while you were around before, it wasn't your fault though. I try and keep it suppressed, to push it down. I take medicine for it too…keeps me calm, but it's not always effective." I admitted embarrassingly.

"So you…you can't make friends not because you like to be alone, but because you have to?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Her tears were completely gone now. "Never again." She whispered.

I felt my brows scrunch together? "Huh?"

"I'll never let you be alone again. No one should have to suffer like that. And if you're ever angry you can talk to me and I'll listen to it all no matter what. That's what a friend is supposed to do! No matter what, I'll be here for you."

I chuckled a bit. "You promise? You can't take it back."

She held out her hand, extending her pinky finger to me. "I _promise_." She said, her eyes focused as she looked into mine. I used my pinky and locked it with hers tightly before we pressed our thumbs together.

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to die."

 **xxx**

 **Two Weeks Later…**

"Here," Jelly extended a book to me and I took it without hesitation.

I looked at the cover. There was a man with glasses on it. "A Brief History of Time? Who is Stephen Hawking?"

"It's my favorite book, and he's my hero. He's my George Lucas." She referenced humorously.

"What does he do?" I asked her as she rocked form side to side, crisscross on the ground. We were sitting just outside the treehouse because she wanted to 'get some sun while it was out'. I guess that spending nearly an hour splashing around in the river wasn't enough 'sun time' for her.

"He's a physicist."

I gave her a confused look. "I thought you wanted to be a zoologist? Don't physicists study the universe?"

"I do, I do…but he's just so awesome that I can't help but admire him, even though he's doing something different than I want to do. He has a disease…it's called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, you see…he can't walk or even talk and he's supposed to be dead because of it, but he's almost ninety years old! It's so cool." She explained.

I had already begun the first page and was blown away by the amount of vocabulary in here that I didn't know. "I…I don't know about sixty percent of the words on this one page."

She waved me away. "Just skip over them, or you can look them up—it doesn't matter, what matters is the message and you don't need to know every word to get it."

"Fine, I'll try and read it. For you." Her huge smile warmed me up way better than the sun could ever hope to. "So what did you do this week?"

"Just school and stuff. You?"

"Same." I reached in my backpack and pulled out a container with some cinnamon rolls that Grandma made for us this morning for breakfast. I was getting kind of hungry. "Want one?"

She looked into the container. "What are they?"

"Cinnamon rolls."

She shook her head frivolously. "I can't eat cinnamon." Then, she opened her mouth the show me her tongue. "When I eat it my tongue swells up and I can't breathe."

I closed the container immediately, my eyes wide, panicking. "Oops."

"Yeah, I almost died when I was four from a churro at Disney World."

"Whoa—that sucks."

Her eyes were kind of sad, and now I felt horrible. "You're not missing out, it's not that good anyway." I promised. "Tell you what…if you can't eat cinnamon, I won't eat it either—ever."

"You'd do that for me?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "That's what friends are for, right?"

She laughed at that. "You're awesome, Teddy."

"Oh yeah, I got you something—almost forgot." I pulled out the thin silver chain from my pocket and extended it to her. She opened her hand and I placed it there.

"A ring?" She asked curiously, looking at me with excitement.

I nodded once. "I saw it at the mall and thought…of you…" For some reason, I kind of stuttered when I realized that I thought of her when I saw it. It was a little embarrassing to admit out loud.

She squinted at the small silver band and I could tell how enticed she was by it. "Battle of Hoth?" She whispered with a huge smile on her face. Jelly actually loved the battle of Hoth. Here, I thought she's be a sucker for episode 5, like me—which she is—but she's way more obsessed with episode 4.

"Battle of Hoth." I affirmed. The ring was way too big to fit around her finger, so I looped a chain through it, so that she could wear it as a necklace if she wanted to.

"This…is so cool. I have to get you something, too."

"Please, not another book with complicated words."

"I know! How about another book with complicated words?!" She lilted, clapping her hands together excitedly. I rolled my eyes.

"No, I think I know the perfect gift for you. Might take me a while to get it, but I promise that it will be incredible."

I shrugged, "It's just a little ring, no biggie."

"It's not the gift, it's the thought that counts. That's what mommy always tells me."

"My mom says that too. I think our parents would get along really well, actually."

Jelly rolled her eyes. "My daddy would just bore yours to death. All he does is work." Then, she looked at the ground, pulling blades of grass out as she was thinking. "He works so much that mommy cries sometimes. She comes out here so no one sees, and she only brings me and makes me promise not to tell. Sometimes she'll sit at her desk and just cry. She stopped writing a few days ago. I think she might be sick."

"Is she coughing a lot?" I asked.

Jelly shook her head. "No…she's just really tired all the time. I try and bring her flowers all the time, because she said she loves them, but they only make her happy for a little while. Then, she's crying again."

I worried the inside of my cheek, gnawing on the skin while I pondered my response. "You know that valley beneath the canopy? There's a spot where orchids grow down there—we can pick some for her if you'd like."

"Orchids? I've never seen orchids down there before."

"I saw them a few weeks ago when I was wandering around by myself. They were big and pink—I'm sure your mom would like them."

Her excitement faded after a moment. "It takes a really long time to get to the valley from here, at least two hours, and mommy says I have to be home before it gets dark…"

"That's right—and I have to go home tonight…"

"Yeah."

"We'll just do it next weekend. I'll go with you and we'll get a whole lot together, okay?"

She perked up a bit, but there was still sadness on her small face. "Kay…"

I had no idea that this was basically the last time I'd ever see her again. I'd been so caught up in my own world that I'd forgotten how mangled my emotions were, how much they dominated every inch of sanity that I possessed. Too selfish to admit the brutal truth:

I had no idea that this was the last time _she'd_ ever see _me_ again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **13 Years Ago…**

 _I'm blinded. White fluorescent light obscures my vision and looms over me. I can't see until the beam washes away and dozens of eyes over faces covered in pale blue masks come into view._

" _Theodore? I need you to say something for me, dear."_

 _I don't recognize this voice._

" _He's conscious, but he's not responding and his breathing is being stifled. We're going to have to A-fib him."_

" _Not until we're sure!"_

 _That voice I recognize. "Jelly…" I croak, even though I'm sure that's not who it is, reaching out for her hand. I still can't see much, but I now realize that I'm moving. I wriggle in place and a sharp pain shoots throughout my entire body, which is on fire currently. Like someone doused me in gasoline before throwing me into a volcano. Everything aches, I'm moving so fast—the smell of anti-bacterial soap fills my sinuses._

 _Panic swirls through me and I attempt to sit up in a hurry, "JELLY!"_

 _I feel a warm grip tighten around my own. "I'm here, baby—grandma is here—we don't need the respirator Donna, we're taking him into urgent care."_

" _He's going into hypothermic shock, Grace—we need to A-Fib him!"_

" _Theodore, honey, you need to lie down, stay awake for me—don't fall asleep."_

 _What is she talking about?! Where is Jelly? I need to see her, now! I'm frantic at this point, desperately writhing on the gurney that's whisking me to wherever. "Where is she?"_

 _A mouth comes close to my ear and whispers. "She's safe, sweetie—the little girl you found, she is safe. I promise."_

" _Let me go!" I beg, my voice cracking._

 _Another voice said, "Need 3 milligrams of Lorazepam, now!" And I barely feel someone stab my arm with something sharp._

 _My head feels fuzzy now, eyelids are heavy as the fight in me slowly fades into nothing but tranquility. "Let go of me!" I begged, "Please—"_

 _And then it all turns black again._

" _Teddy!" Jelly screams, her tiny hand stretching out for mine, but I'm already too far away for her to reach me. The angry rain obstructs my vision, but I see her, so clearly._

 _Before I'm even able to catch my wits she's springing towards me, getting closer as I get farther away. She inches even more before the lightning cracks above our heads again. She mouths my name, but I don't hear a sound. The black sky's getting further away, trees are getting taller, the air is like knives on my skin._

 _It all happens so slowly._

 _Her face, covered in droplets of water and a little mud, is scrunched with so much angst and desperation, and it's the very last time I see those eyes before the raging, ice cold river engulfs my entire body._

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Theodore, baby, look at me." A soft voice says. My mother's face comes into view as she shifts my face in her warm hands. "It's okay, sweetie, it was just a bad dream. It was only a dream. Shhh."

My eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, but they don't need to work too hard because bright light comes soon after and I squeeze them shut. "Christian, turn that light off. It's four in the morning." Mom growls, but the light remains on.

I crack one eye open just as a pair of legs come into view beside my mothers, who's sitting on my bed just beside me.

Everything's blurry and nothing makes sense. Where am I? What day is it? My body is gyrating like a jackhammer. I'm hot cold and hot at the same time. My head hurts.

Mom brings my eyes back to hers again and I struggle to open them over the blinding light. "He's going to need to bathe," A huskier, much deeper voice that I know as my father's follows swiftly.

I finally get a good, clear look at my mom as my vision sharpens. Her eyes are wide and filled with pain as she scans my face. "I don't think he's breathing Christian." Mom calls out. She gently strokes my cheek with her thumb. "You need to breathe, Theodore. Take a deep breath in, baby."

I'm not breathing? I couldn't even tell, but as soon as I do as she says it becomes apparent. I struggle like crazy to inhale, but nothing happens. I cringe as I watch mom try and imitate proper breathing exercises. She places a hand on my chest, gently, tells me, "Breathe,"

Finally, I do, and it hurts like mad. Millions of needles prick at the walls of my windpipe. "That's it, slowly. Calm down."

"Bath's ready," Dad says as he appears from the bathroom that connects to my room. He shakes the water from his hand and comes to my side. I flinch when he grabs under my arms and guides me from the bed. The mattress, I notice now is wet and cold, as are my pajamas.

I didn't even realize we'd entered the bathroom until I heard my foot slap against the cold linoleum as I came to a stop. "Get in, Theodore. Now." He added on after a long stretch of me just standing, utterly still, staring at the water blankly.

Slowly, I removed my PJs, then stepped into the hot water, leaning back until it completely consumed me. Dad plucked them off the floor just as mom came into the bathroom with my rumpled up sheets in her arms. "Here," She said as she retrieved my soiled clothing from dad's hands. She glanced at me, that familiar worry still lingering "Make sure you watch him." She whispered before she disappeared from the bathroom.

Dad crouched down beside the tub, but I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to look at anything. But I was too afraid to close my eyes because every single time I did, I'd see nothing but blood and flashes of light so vivid and blinding they made my whole body ache.

The bath water was hot, way hotter than I usually have it when I run my own baths. So I was in awe when my dad's deep voice floated over and said, "You're shaking, Teddy."

My eyes widened, but I didn't look up. I kept my eyes trained on my clasped hands, beneath the clear water, but finally noticed how they trembled, so microscopically, and how the still water gyrated, though I hadn't moved a muscle since I sat down.

"Theodore, look at me." My father demanded. "Look. At. Me." He pressed, leaning further into my space. When I finally looked at him, I noted how creased his brows were. The lines were beginning to mend into his aging features, the stress consuming his youth in one fell swoop.

"It's been over a year now, son. These nightmares aren't getting any better. You've got to tell me what it is you need. I know that you've been going through a lot, and I understand that hopelessness more than you'll ever know. And because of that fact, I know that that there has to be more to all of this than you're letting on."

"I'm sorry." I croaked out, hoping that would be the end of it. My judgement is frayed. I have no window of time anymore, days blend into one another. Colors seems less vibrant, sound has no meaning; it all goes into one ear and out the other.

"Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong, do you understand me?"

"Yes." I said flatly, barely even remembering what he'd just said.

He was quiet for a moment, again. "Did you want to see Dr. Guthrie tomorrow? I know your next session isn't until Friday, but maybe she could squeeze you in. Does that sound like something you'd want to do?"

"I don't care." I whispered, and I really didn't.

Cue another long stretch of uncomfortable silence. "Theodore? Talk to me, please." Dad begged, continuing on while my ears zoned out like a radio being tuned between two completely static stations.

I might be suicidal. At age 13. Is that even possible? Even I know how absurd it sounds and I'm a kid—imagine how it might come across to someone who's dealt with the cynicism of living every day in sheer misery for years.

My father lied, by the way. The nightmares? They had been getting better. Before tonight, I hadn't had one of this caliber in over a month. Why now? It should come as no mystery, but I lied to my parents about the real reason I became flat-out catatonic for an entire year, omitting the small detail that for the first few weeks after the incident, kept me from sleeping entirely. Coupled with the fact that I almost died twice in a single night as I lugged a potentially dead person on my back while my arm was broken in three places.

I looked down into the clear water again, and remembered how quickly I got over my hydrophobia and how relieved my mother was when I could finally sit in a bathtub again without having to be held down as I screamed bloody murder. Could still hear my dad going on to no avail about how I need to _talk to him_. My arm had faint scarring from where I'd needed stitches, but the bruising was long gone at this point.

Didn't matter in the _slightest_. My scars had nothing to do with what was on my skin. All the damage had been done to my mind, and it was an excruciating pain. The kind that makes you wish you'd never been born. The kind that makes you pray for death.

That's how it began; a sinewy white hot burn that's mellowed into a deeply-rooted, crushing agony.

 **Eight Hours Prior…**

I pressed the buttons on my Nintendo DS, furiously. This new Super Meat Boy game was impossible to beat, actually. I've been at it for almost a week now, and it's quickly become one of the few things I actually enjoy doing for the first time in a long time. It keeps my mind busy. Plus I've noticed that whenever I play, my parents don't bother me. So naturally, I whip it out as often as possible.

Today though, I was unavoidably forced to come outside for the stupid cookout my parents have every few months where they invite over half of the neighborhood to eat food and talk in our backyard. The enormous area is packed with faces I recognize but have never spoken to me before.

Noisy, so noisy. Lots of chattering and screaming from the other kids.

It's hot, and I'm uncomfortable nudged against this wooden railing, trying to make myself as small as possible with the hope that no one will notice me here.

I've never liked being surrounded by lots of people, flares up my bad temper something fierce. Although admittedly, my temper has subsided as of late. Frankly I don't feel those surges of anger like I used to anymore. Replacing it now-a-days has been this overwhelming urge to retreat into my own head and rot there. A numbness, I guess.

What used to be uncontrolled episodes of rage are now long stretches of anxiety and sorrow—one hurts way worse than the other. But I try as often as I can to humor my mother and father by feigning interest in 'this' or 'that'. All the insignificant little things that make life meaningful. Even the crudest of the few. Also, the nightmares stopped a few weeks ago. Hopefully, for good.

No more waking up screaming in a mass of my own sweat, heart hammering in my chest as I dry heave. No more eating lunch in the janitors closet at school to avoid all the kids in my class who refused to leave me alone; I can finally hold conversations with people again. No more holing myself in my bedroom for hours on end and crying until my head ached.

A pair of small hands slapped against my bare knees, causing me to wince. I was wearing a pair of blue and black board shorts today because it was 80 degrees outside. Now I wish I'd maybe opted for some snow pants to soften that blow.

"Teddy come play." Phoebe squeaked. She had on a one piece swimsuit and was soaking wet from splashing around in the pool with the other kids.

"Later." I grumbled, eyes never leaving the screen of my DS.

"No! Now Teddy, come and play! You haven't left this spot since forever." She whined.

In my defense, I tried to go inside about a half hour ago but my father stopped me, guided me right back outside, and told me to 'have fun'.

If he really wanted me to have fun, he'd of let me go to my room.

"Come play with me!" She drawled in a desperate but playful tone. At this point she was basically hanging off of the side of my body, tugging at me to get up from my seat. She tugged a little too hard and I lost my grip on the buttons for just a quarter second.

" _BUM BUM BUM…YOU LOSE!"_ My eye twitched slightly as I stared at the bold text scrawled across the devices LCD. Great.

 _Nine_.

"Damn it." I grumbled.

Phoebe gasped, holding one hand against her mouth, eyes wide. "You said a swear word."

I pressed the restart button and began the level again. "I'll play with you later Feebs, now go away."

She grunted a bit before throwing her arms up in defeat and running away again.

However not even ten seconds later a shadow came over me once again. As if I hadn't just told her to leave. I didn't look up, awaited the whining and nagging for me to come and play.

" _BUM BUM BUM…YOU LOSE!"_

"Tsk—" I growled. I lost the same level again. That makes ten now. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A hand came into my view, above my Nintendo, and pointed right at my chest. "I like your shirt."

I looked up so quickly that I almost broke my freaking neck. The evening sun was incredibly bright, and I had to squint until my eyes focused. "It's Galaga right? I like vintage games. But I do vaguely recall a certain minesweeper of a conspiracy." She snickered a bit, waiting for me to respond. "Get it? Cause minesweeper…is a vintage…game…and it has explosions too…" She cleared her throat immediately after a while of awkward silence.

I felt my brows scrunch together and my heart began to _pound_ inside of my chest. It hurt so freaking bad that I felt like I was going to pass out. She looked at me with those familiar eyes that always made everything better, even when things were seemingly irreparable. A voice and a face that could always put me at unspeakable ease, keep me there. Someone who'd listen to me when I was being unreasonable without judgement, who liked me for who I was, regardless of how terrible I was at keeping my cool.

Pain shot through me like a bolt of lightning. All the things I'd done wrong that day, and how I'd failed her, nearly lost her, and then I did. How it was so painful that I couldn't function on my own for more than half a year afterwards. It felt like someone had grabbed my lungs and squeezed them. I began to suffocate, all in the span of one second.

Holy crap. What is she doing here? Why is she talking to me?

 _Does she…_

 _Does she…?_

 _Remember…me?_

She smiled really wide, and some kind of foolish hope fluttered in my stomach for a split second.

"I thought that joke was pretty good." She thought on it a bit, then tilted her head. Her hair was way longer now, past her shoulders, and her teeth had finally come in. A little taller, and clad in a polka dot sundress and thick-framed glasses that enhanced the color of her turquoise eyes.

"I guess that's not the first or last time I've been given the cold shoulder for my bad sense of humor. I always thought that if zombies ever did come to exist I could just bore them back into their graves, slam their own heads against the tombstones to drown out my occultist droning. Then afterwards I'd play a really bad rendition of _Electric_ _Feel_." She sighed despondently, eyeing me briefly for any sign that I understood the joke. "Get it? Cause—never mind." She shook her head.

My eyes narrowed, and I had to practically stomp down the urge to crack a smile even though it clawed at me. Yeah…she's still weird.

She waited for me to speak—again, but I was frozen in time. "Theodore, right? My family just moved into this neighborhood a month ago. We're about a minute drive from here. You go to Lakeside Prep too, don't you? I just transferred there…I think I've seen you around school. You're awfully quiet, you know? I'm Jillian by the way, nice to meet you." She extended her hand to me.

I jumped back like I'd just been singed, stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, and then turned to walk away… _sprint_ would be a better way of describing my exit.

Don't say a word to her, Theodore. What is there to say? _Sorry I almost killed you?_

She hates me, that's why she chose to not remember. I want to talk to her, though. I want to talk to her so bad because I'm lonely, but I don't want to hurt her. I don't want her to have to remember how in pain she was.

That blood curdling scream that filled my ears as her leg was crushed beneath me. How she almost drowned as I drug her to the bottom of the river with me, too afraid to let go. Now I wish I'd just died. _Anything_ would be better than this. If I died that night I wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of almost taking her life and the pain of not being able to talk to her like we used to ever again.

Don't think about it. Stop thinking. It will only hurt worse.

Too late.

Thinking about it.

xxx

" _Why do I have to do what my dad wants me to? Why is my entire life planned out for me?!" I yelled, forcefully chucking rocks at my usual withered down pine near the hideout. I don't even remember how the conversation started anymore. I can only recall my anger for having to sit through my father's lecture earlier today about how I'm the future of his stupid company._

" _And why is it that every single time something goes wrong I'm the one who has to take the worst of it. I AM NOT A METRONOME, DAMN IT. I can't just do one thing. This is ridiculous. I hate my stupid freaking life. Everything has to be perfect or he's not happy! Maybe I don't want to do that. Maybe, just maybe—" I flinched when Jelly appeared in front of me suddenly and wrapped her fingers around my own, shaking the rocks from my hands. She pulled me into a crushing hug and patted my back gently._

" _Don't cry, Teddy. Just breathe." She whispered, and I finally noticed the tears streaking down my face. "You don't have to do just one thing. The one thing might just be the start of your end game. Sometimes you make the right decision, sometimes you make the decision right. It all depends on you. Don't let the anger take over. You're so much more than that."_

 _I bit down on my lip hard, wiped the tears from my itchy eyes, and wrapped my arms around her, squeezing back. "I'm sorry…I'm always yelling at you."_

 _She chuckled. "It's a privilege, you know? Being trusted enough to have you pour your thoughts out to me. Being with you makes me feel like…" Slowly, her voice gets deeper, and it fades away completely._

… _Jillian?_

 _Feel what? What did she say? I can't remember the rest._

"Theodore?! Are you paying attention?" Dad snapped, waving a hand in front of my line of vision to bring me back to Earth.

"I'm listening, Dad." I grumbled.

He leaned back in his desk chair. "Answer my question. Who is this Sean boy you were fighting with at school, huh? Why Theodore? Why would you do something like that? You know you nearly got yourself expelled? If I hadn't pulled some strings you wouldn't have gotten off with just a suspension."

"He lied to the teacher and told him that I cheated on an exam so he could place above me on the honor roll this semester." I explained.

"So naturally, you send him and three other boys to the nurse's office? It's a damn good thing you stopped when you did, those boys almost had to be admitted to a hospital." He scoffed.

I didn't intend on fighting when I first confronted him during recess, but before I knew it, my temper had gone from -1 to 100 over the span of twelve seconds. Sean was a smug son of a bitch. I crowned him as soon as he cracked that signature bullshit smile of his and when he fell to the ground it only escalated from there.

"Where are you getting all that strength from anyway?" He asked, genuinely curious. I held back on correcting him, simply shrugging. It wasn't strength, it was unbridled rage…pure adrenaline. The scars from my encounter were seeping from my body like callouses. I'm not a fighter, but there was something about knocking the wind out of that loser's body that brought about unexpected level of satisfaction through me. Even more than I got after I head butted that bastard Keith when he flung his chair at me in chemistry last month on 'accident'.

Dad waved my report card around a bit before tossing it back onto his desk again. "Is that why your grades are slipping in History? Because you were cheating?"

I shook my head furiously. "I _didn't_ cheat. Sean lied and said that I did and the teacher believed him."

He held up his hand to quiet me. "I don't care what he did Theodore Raymond Grey—you had no reason to do what you did. You're grounded…one month. Phone. "

I plucked my cellphone from my pants pocket and placed it on his desk, watched as he plopped it into one of the drawers and locked it with a key. "No television, no computer unless it's for school work. You go to school, then to practice if need be, then right back home. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry." I muttered.

"I don't want sorry. I want better. If you can't improve this grade come your final report card you'll be attending cram school this summer. Out." He waved me away, returning to his work.

Quietly, I filed out of his study, pulling the door closed behind me. When I got to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, face down, and screamed into my pillow.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

" _Don't let the anger take over." She whispers._

How can I not? What other way is there to express how alone I am? How much everything hurts all the time? I hate my _life_.

And then, there she was, a small face in the mass of my peers but I noticed her almost instantly, staring at me in shock as she stood a few feet behind Shane. She's so…it's just…Jillian.

My brain began to fry on the spot. Everything else disappeared, and it was just her and me and were alone in the world. Just like it used to be when we'd escape into one another in the middle of nowhere. Just our words, our dreams, our pain—we'd share everything. I told her things I've never and will never tell another human being for as long as I live. I'd lose my mind with her and she'd let me, always, with no judgement.

I miss her.

God I miss her.

I just _miss_ her. There's no avoiding it at this point. I've tried to hold it down, to let it go, to push it back, but it's beginning to destroy me, slowly but surely. I somehow managed to convince myself that I was okay with being alone again—I was wrong. Every time I see the back of her head in Advanced Mathematics, the side of her profile when she leans over to whisper to her loud mouthed friend in Social Studies. The way she squeezes the straps of her backpack whenever she's waiting for breakfast in the cafeteria every morning.

Whenever I hear her voice as she speaks to someone else, I have to stop what I'm doing completely—I have to hear her. It's as close as I can get without feeling sick to my stomach, guilty and disgusted over what I've done. How I single-handedly erased my own existence from her mind because even the memory of what we once were is just that excruciating. That's all it is.

Time can't heal all wounds, these are festering.

I just couldn't help but think: _I bet she'd be so mad at me for losing my cool like this. She always admonished me whenever my voice got above a certain decibel. I want her to be angry at me again, I want her to worry about me again. I want to talk to her again._

 _Jelly…Jillian._

 _Need to calm down, need to chill out. Come on Theodore—you're good. Put your fist down! Close your eyes, take a deep breath…count to ten. You're better than this, she even said so._

 _That fist is approaching my face awful slowly. I could dodge it if I wanted to. But, I think I'll just take this one and call it quits._

 _WHAM!_

I rolled onto my back and touched the Band-Aid that she placed under my eye, feeling every bump of the soft plastic beneath my finger. "Always be there for me, huh? No matter what? You promise? You _promised_." I balled my fist and slammed it down onto the bed.

What a sick joke.

xxx

 **Six Months Later…**

I closed my eyes and let the rattling chatter of the noisy cafeteria during this ravenous lunch time wash over me like waves crashing against the beach. I resist the urge to press my palms to my ears, drown them all out.

Socializing with my peers is something that I avoid at all costs, but for some odd reason no matter how much I try to distance myself from everyone, they just get closer and closer. Before I know it I'm being invited to go parasailing on Lake Tacoma for one of my classmate's birthdays. How I even got invited is a complete mystery to me…I barely even know the kid. Father makes me go, though—claiming that socialization is a part of business and I should get used to it now.

I just want to be alone. I really, _truly_ do.

Just get your lunch, sit down and eat. Don't look at anyone—don't talk to anyone.

"Theo!"

 _Shit_.

I ignored it. I didn't know who the hell it was nor did I care. I just wanted to eat quickly and then take a nap in homeroom before 4th period. I had three exams coming up and I was going to be studying non-stop all week—wasn't looking for chit-chat.

When the voice continued to badger my poor name and it got to the point where it was more infuriating than passer-by, I directed my attention to it.

"Theo!"

I tried to unclench my teeth, but just barely managed to before the word gritted out of my mouth. "Yeah?"

Oscar, one of my baseball team members was already beside me, and practically reaching out for my attention. His dark bangs fell over his face and covered one eye like always, the one visible eye was wide as he opened his mouth ad began to speak.

"I'm glad I found you." He said as he matched my pace in the lunch line, stepping forward every few seconds as the queue moved forward.

"Why? What's up?" I asked.

"We've got to extend practice all week to eight-o-clock." He explained.

Horror surged through me and I turned my head to face him completely. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry Theo. I know you have like 15 AP classes, but coach says that were probably going to be doing two matches in a row next week. So we have to knuckle down and all." I didn't bother correcting him with a "the expression is buckle down" because I honestly couldn't give a shit considering the ridiculousness at hand.

I halted completely this time, stepping slightly out of the lunch line so as to let others pass by me. "Oscar, I can't stay at school until eight all week. I have to study." I explained.

He shrugged. "That's whatever, but coach says whoever can't stay for practice today and tomorrow can't play any of the games next week."

My jaw fell slack. "Are you fucking serious?"

He closed his eyes and nodded, hands on his hips in exhaustion. "So fucking serious."

"That's such bullshit." I growled.

"That's what coach said—no exceptions." Oscar sighed. "You're not the only one who can't make it, Ronan can't do it either—he's got band practice on Thursday's from five to seven."

"That's so stupid, dude—who stays at school until eight for any reason? Is coach Fedrik finally going off the deep end? I should have figured when he started showing up to practice in his house shoes—that had to be the tipping point."

"And he also started talking about how we need to run three extra cycles before we get on the field today, too."

I kicked the bottom of the metal counter that separated the lunch line from the expanse of the cafeteria and it made a clanking sound, quickly drowned out by the chatter of the noisy space immediately after. "Craaap." I groaned.

I was pissed, seriously—I simply did not have the time to pull that kind of an all-nighter. I had a disgusting amount of studying to do paired with debate, merit club, and all the other stupid extracurricular that I did. I already know which one my dad would make me choose, but baseball is the one thing that I do and actually _enjoy._ I can't possibly quit that one—so I have to choose to quit something else, and having to decide on that is going to stress me out big time.

As I went to tell Oscar that I'd make changes in my schedule to stay late, I felt something sharp press against my back for a split second. In that brief moment I took a step forward to brace myself, anticipating that I would be falling forward. Instead, accompanied by the nudge was the sound of several hollow sounding things toppling over behind me.

The entire cafeteria somehow went completely silent, without exaggeration, you could hear a pen drop. I turned around just as the silence began to rumble into the most engrossing fit of laughter I've ever witnessed, until it complete consumed the huge mess hall. My eardrums pounded as the floor shook and hundreds of adolescent hands gathered around and pointed to the small, sprawled out figure just below me on the ground…covered in garbage and pasta from head to toe.

My eyes widened into dinner plates.

 _Jillian…?_

What the heck just happened? Did she trip or something? Why did she just catapult into me like that?

She was on the cafeteria floor, shaking like a cornered bunny rabbit and attempting to make herself small as the laughs continued to pour in. I stared downat her for a while, and slowly, her eyes came up from her knees to meet mine.

Wow.

Her eyes are so… _big_. When was the last time she looked me directly in the eyes? It's been a while, hasn't it? It's been a long time since she's looked at me _that_ way. By _that_ way, I mean the look of desperation or hopelessness. When was that?

Right.

" _Why do you put up with me?" I grumbled as I stared at the dimming evening sky, sun setting from above us. I felt a small trickle of blood run down my cheekbone, knew that I had to be bleeding from somewhere, but I didn't bother to find out where._

 _Jelly appeared out of the corner of my eye, her figure looming over me. She was upside down. I was laid across the riverbed on my back, once again coming down from a surge of irritation where I screamed at my best friend in the whole world for 30 minutes straight over something that had absolutely nothing to do with her._

 _She gave me a sharp kick to my side and I blanched before curling into a ball and groaning. "We put up with each other, now get up. We have to reach the t-trail before it gets dark."_

" _Did you have to choke slam me, though?" I asked, irritated._

 _She glowered down at me, eyes dead of all emotion. "How else would I have gotten you to shut up, Teddy? You seriously need to find your chill, you know? You're way too aggressive for a 10-year-old."_

" _Says the mega genius who's way too smart for a 9-year-old. You know I tried reading some of the books you loaned me. They're crazy difficult. Makes me want to get smarter. Being around you makes me feel stupid. One day I'm going to make you feel stupid."_

 _Her gaze pins me to the ground. "Get smarter is not the correct vernacular, Teddy. That's just blatantly improper English."_

 _I lifted one hand up and punched the air. "I can get straight A's with little effort, too, I'll have you know. I just prefer to watch movies and read comic books."_

" _Get up, we have to go now. You said you'd help me find stalagmites. Stop wallowing." She demanded._

 _My arm went limp and hit the rocky surface with a painful plopping sound. "I didn't ask to be born into a family of billionaires, I don't want to be friends with every single person I meet. I hate my life, I hate everything, but I have to just pretend like it's all okay and I'm not miserable and like I wish I were invisible. Smiling when I'm not happy, constructing my entire life around my father's ideas for me…"_

 _Jelly's eyes widened in shock. "Be thankful you have a father that cares Teddy! If I died tomorrow, my dad would probably throw a party. You have no idea how lucky you are!" She screeched, just barely missing my arm when she stomped her foot down._

" _And who cares what your dad wants. Do what you want to do! If he kicks you out because you don't do what he says you can live with me and I'll take care of you. I'll do everything, so don't worry, okay? And I'm listening to you okay? I_ hear _you. I get it, so yell as much as you need to. I promise…I promise—"_

" _I prom—"_

" _I pro—"_

" _I—"_

Her voice. It's just gone now. Completely. Images of us running beneath the billowing pine trees in the middle of nowhere, getting lost together until the sun went down. The way she'd hum me into a soothing lull whenever I was feeling horrible, the subtle ways she's show me how much I meant to her and make me feel like I was different. Gone.

The same girl that I knew for less than seven months, and who in less than seven months managed to rip my heart out of my chest, and throw it away before conveniently forgetting about it as if I was nothing. The first and last person I've ever shown my other half to—the part of me that's lonely and laced with contempt, who took away that loneliness for a small time and then left me suspended in the ether of undying misery.

You promise, huh? Do you promise, Jelly? Just how hard did you hit your head that the memory of everything that I was to you just become a hollow space in your mind? Did you really give that little of a _fuck_ about me?

You promise?

…Fucking _liar_.

I grimaced down at the small figure beneath me, my face twisted with so much hatred and irritation, added on to the immense plethora of stress that I was going to have to endure this week. All of the pressure hit me at once like a freight train.

She looked so small, so pathetic. I hated her, I hated that she made a promise she couldn't possibly hope to keep, built something inside of me and then left me behind to combat the chaos and trauma that we experienced together on my own. Where the heck were you, Jelly? Jillian? Where are you now? Does my face not ring a bell to you?

When you look at me? What exactly is it that you're seeing?

Why the hell is she even near me right now? Hasn't she messed me up enough? Leave me alone.

I grit my teeth together so hard I was sure they'd crack. The laughter of our peers came to a grinding halt in my head, and in that second I was fighting back my first real surge of anger in months.

Pathetic, weak, know-it-all, liar, waste of space, "Garbage." I spit at her before I could even stop myself.

Whoa—why did I just say that? Why did I say that?

 _Take it back, Theodore._

After what I'd said sunk in, her eyes slowly widened into dinner plates and her face turned bright red in embarrassment. Tears began to form in her big blueish green eyes and she averted her gaze from mine.

Take it back, Theodore. Apologize and help her up. Don't chastise her. It isn't her fault. It's _your_ fault!

Why should I help her? Where was she when that nightmares wouldn't stop? When I couldn't sleep at night, or when I had to sit through therapy sessions every week, twice a week for over a year? Where was she when I was in pain, helpless, _hopeless_ , crying every single night because I almost died in the most horrible awful way, trying to save her life and my own simultaneously? I can still feel the pain in my arms, the exhaustion in my legs, the needles in my chest, and how I was unable to breathe properly for months. I'm the victim here, not her.

How she feels?

It's my fault, though.

I stepped over her quivering body and exited the lunchroom without another word. When I finally cleared the end of the hallway and came to a stop, I pressed my back against the lockers and slid to the ground. I put my face in my hands and for some reason felt…tranquility.

Almost 3 years of complete darkness, anger, guilt, missing her so much that it would make me physically sick to my stomach—it dissipated in the single instance that I saw the pain on her face as I crushed her spirit into the dirt. She looked so helpless and embarrassed. I humiliated her…and do you know what? I liked it.

It feels…

" _It feels…nice." Jelly whispered to me. She said something else, but "You're strange, but the good kind. I like you a lot. More than I've ever liked anyone."_

Shut up! Shut up! I don't care about you anymore. You're dead to me. You died the day you looked me in the eyes as if I were a complete stranger, shook your head and furrowed your brows—bandages still tight around your skull, face swollen and purple from bruising. You died the day you said those words to me, even though they fell on deaf ears, your mouth rowed as they formed around them with precision.

" _Who…are…you?"_

The sorrow replaced with rage and took me by surprise when my fist slammed against the locker behind me and shook the entire foundation. "Shut up."

xxx

It's hot. I rolled my shoulders a few times before twisting back and forth in place. Grabbing my water bottle, I douse the top of my head with the ice cold water inside and the cork my baseball cap back over my head again.

Elijah nudges my arm with his elbow. "Coach looks angry." He chuckled, nudging his chin in the general direction of the field. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, uninterested in whoever coach was screaming at. Only day two of the three day late practice sessions from hell, and he's already irascible and annoying. The guy is truly insatiable when it comes to perfection, choleric when it can't be achieved spontaneously.

I go to sit down again, and is if on cue, I hear my name being called. "Grey! To bat!"

Seriously? I literally just got off the field not three minutes ago.

With a sigh I stand right up again, shoving my plastic helmet on hastily and tucking the lapels of my shirt. I grab my bat from the rack and jog out from the dugout just as I hear coach screech, "GREY! BAT! NOW!"

"I'm here, I'm here." I say as I approach home plate. Coach comes up to me, his face red and glistening from being out in the hot sun for hours with no break. Bald head and chubby beer belly both protruding out like adenosine. He could stand to do a few laps around the track field across campus himself—wouldn't kill him. Instead the whole team has been running laps all day, so much so that my legs are on fire, even after the whole five minutes I've had to rest on the bench.

I had to squint my eyes as I looked up at him because he's nearly seven feet tall and the sun is high in the sky this evening. But he obstructs my vision of the enormous baseball field and my fellow team members spread through the outfield, waiting for the reset.

He nears and leans down to find the side of my head and whispers, "I want it straight, no tailgating—don't hold back, alright? No punts."

"Yeah," I mutter, and am rewarded with a sharp slap to the back of my shoulder. "Ow?"

"Anderson—" Coach turns swiftly to face the pitching hill where our team captain, Takashi Anderson is crouched over, tying his shoes. His name is Takashi, but everyone in this school calls him Yoshi, though—don't know why. He's half-Japanese, but you can barely even tell cause the Greek in him comes through and casts a shadow over his ethnic diversity like mad.

His head flies up at the sound of coach's gruff voice.

"Sir?" Yoshi calls back as he stands and brushes the dirt from his pants.

"Head up. I don't want a repeat of earlier, got it? To the umpire this time." He grits out, then without waiting for Yoshi to respond he makes the call. "Play ball."

I slam the top of my bat against the soles of my cleats before throwing it over one shoulder and assuming the position.

Yoshi kicks his feet out, eyes meeting mine briefly before switching to the umpire. He nods once before winding up, and in the blink of an eye the ball goes flying right past my midsection and slams the umpire's glove the most vociferous _plunk_.

Man, that arm is ridiculous. Even at age 14, Yoshi's pitch can put most major leaguers to shame. Make them rethink their whole careers.

"Grey!" Coach screeches, but I'm already shaking my head and straightening again as the ball flies from behind me, back to the pitchers hill.

Travis' foot is hanging off of second base at this point, waiting for me or waiting to steal third. I anticipate the steal until he finally rests a bit since Prescott is still on first with Finn watching them both like a hawk and not moving a muscle, completely braindead.

Yoshi rolls his pitching arm and I narrow my eyes into slits as he starts to wind up again. This time, mind clear and senses widened, I see the ball leave his hand and my arms creak as I swing them with as much force as the tired things will allow me.

My eardrums pop as the ball hits my bat and goes flying fifty feet across the field in one shot, right over the rushing arms and reaching gloves of my team members and just barely missing the fence.

"Holy shit!" I hear someone yell from the dugout—sounds like Oscar, but I don't check.

"Homerun!" The umpire calls out and the entire infield screeches with the mortar of glory.

"Delgado—there's no cursing on my damn field, you know that!" Coach hissed. Yep, it was Oscar.

I jog around the field and upon reaching home plate do a huge backflip, falling onto my butt in the process. "Yeah, yeah, dust it off Barry Bonds." Coach growled. "We're running again. Reset—in out. Grey good job. Let's go!" He clapped his hands.

xxx

As soon as I leave the locker rooms, freshly showered with both my backpack and sports bag in hand, I'm greeted with a familiar face, waiting for me just beside the door.

"Taylor?" I mumbled, lugging my heavy bag back over my shoulder when it slipped down. The things is filled to the brim with all my homework and study materials, things that I somehow managed to not fall behind on even though I'm doing over a thousand things this week.

"Hey, Teddy—ready to go?" He asked as he took both my sports bag and backpack for me.

I scanned the empty hallway. School was done and most of the afterschool clubs were long gone, even the ones that usually stay pretty late. These hallways were eerily creepy at this time of night with no signs of life—the school was ridiculously huge to boot. "Where's my mom? She said she was going to pick me up."

Taylor gave me a sorry look. "She got busy with work, same with your father. They couldn't make it."

I felt my brows furrow. "I see…"

"Ready?" He asked again.

"Yeah, sure." I muttered before shoving my hands in my pockets. Not the first or last time my parents have been to busy to pick me up from school. Lately it's been Taylor and Sawyer consistently—sometimes Angle. Yes, that's his name, my father's other security personnel—Angle.

"And Angle?" I asked as I followed behind him patiently.

"Also busy,"

"I don't like him." I taped on.

Taylor gave me a distant smile. "None of us do."

xxx

"Okay, so how about instead if we add on a short cross examination before the closing argument so that she can have her moment and leave us all the hell alone?" Jean suggested.

"Then she'll always want a solo and quite frankly I don't have time for all that." Teller argued.

Jean's eyes drifted over to me and I blanched, unwilling to partake in the conversation entirely. "What do you think?" She asked.

I ran that palm of my hand against the edge of the rounded table we were all sitting at as I thought on it for a bit.

Cheyenne slammed her hand against the table and I reached out to cradle my water bottle so it wouldn't fall off. "We can't just let her have her way all the time. This _mock_ trial, not _cater to_ _Asia_ trial. I can't believe we even need to sit down and have a conversation about this. It's absurd."

"Preach." Our club leader Mason said. Mason, who is usually the quiet and most compliant of the six of us, actually agrees with Cheyenne—the wild cannon.

"What do you mean, preach, Mason? You bag of potatoes. Who are you to say anything?" Jean grit her teeth,

Teller held up his hand and if I didn't know him any better I'd say he was giving it his all to not backhand her across her obnoxious face. "Dean, shut the hell up, okay? All you do it try and please people."

Dean reached across the table for my hand but I kept one wrapped around my pencil, pressed against a blank page in my spiral for jotting notes and the other balled into a fist and resting against my cheek. I must have looked bored out of my mind because she mentions this, "I know you don't care either way Theodore, but I need someone on my side and you're the nicest person in the whole group. Everyone should have equal part in the upcoming trial."

My eyes glazed over, but I kept my mouth shut.

"What are you trying to get Theodore on your side for? You know he doesn't freaking care!"

Finally, I spoke up. "I think that Asia has plenty to do this trial. More than she did the last, at least. Why does she need to speak again before the closing argument?"

"Because she feels like she doesn't make any impact to the outcome, that's why!"

"It's predetermined anyway!" Cheyenne yelled, slamming the table again—she does that a lot. This time, she kicked from underneath and my water bottled tipped over and fell onto the floor. "Do you see this?" She held up the thick deposition that we've been studying like crazy for the last week and a half. "This is a _made_ _up_ murder case—it isn't even _real_! Who cares what happens to the plaintiff? It. Is. A Mock!"

Mason reached down and plucked my bottle from the floor right as I did, placed it back on the table for me. I mumbled my thanks.

"Asia might quit if we don't give her a bigger role that one cross X. Let's give her Teller's questioning slot, then she'll be happy."

Teller looked at Dean like she'd just slapped him. "Excuse me? If that's all it takes then just let her quit. Do I look like I give a flying—"

"Okay, okay guys—we're going to be 9th graders next year, I think we can come to a logical, mature agreement here. One that is hopefully mutual?" Mason hummed.

"I vote we kick Asia out of the club. We can do this with just the five of us. All in favor, say _I_?" Teller tacked.

Before he could even finish that sentence, Cheyenne had already blurted out her _I_ , sat back, and crossed her arms in silent wait.

That made Mason's fuse drop substantially. He sighed inwardly and mumbled in a visually restrained tone, "We're not kicking anyone out."

I slid my cellphone out of my pocket and checked the time discreetly, noticed that I had several text messages from some people and went to reply to a few while my team went back and forth on kicking out our sixth member.

"Enough! We're not going to get anything done unless we have Asia here to discuss the parameters. I say we meet again on Tuesday and work this out with her." Mason deliberated as he slammed his copy of the deposition shut then stood and collected his things. "Meeting adjourned. Have a nice weekend everyone."

Mason was already out of the room before I looked up from my phone. I gathered my own things and followed his lead out the door in a rush before Dean could hold me hostage and convince me to see her way of things like she always does.

I made my way to my locker to get my coat and backpack, quickly tapping out a text to my mom that club is over and I'm ready to be picked up.

When I go to cut the corner that houses the hall my locker is in, I nearly head-butt with someone attempting to dart past me.

"Whoa—where's the fire?" I chuckled playfully, holding my hand out for a brief moment. That was until I finally looked up and came face-to-face with the last person in the world that I wanted to see today…or any day for that matter. My smile fell quickly as I slowly reeled in the reality of who was standing in front of my right now. Her wavy hair was a messy, frilly bun on top of her head and her thick lensed goggle glasses were pushed over her face.

That's no surprise—she only needed them for reading, aside from that her eyesight was fine. Whenever I gave her one of my comic books to look at and she didn't have her glasses on her she'd squint so hard to read the bolded words it was as if her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

Those same enormous green eye widened when she balanced herself and looked up at me. "I'm sorry." She whispered, and then they found the floor so quickly th1at you wouldn't have been able to tell she had seen me at all.

I felt my teeth crunch together. Wow, she's pretentious. Does she actually, think that sorry is going to cut it?

 _She's sorry for bumping into you Theodore, that's the extent._

I ignored that small voice of reason, the one telling me to just clamp my jaw shut and walk right past her or take the apology and move on. "You're _sorry_?" I said spitefully and her brows dove together at the venom laced into my words.

I held up two fingers before I spoke again. "Twice. That's the second time you've bumped into me, Pierce. My patience only goes so far, you know?"

"I…I didn't mean to. I was just—"

You were just heading home from biology club—I know. I know everything about you. _Everything._ What I also know is that you don't normally go down this hallway for any reason when afterschool clubs are over, so I grit my teeth as the silent question stabs at my soul. _Why the fuck are you here?_

"I don't care what you were just doing!" I snapped, not wanting to hear her speak to me anymore because it was like knives against my eardrums. "Watch where you're going, ugly dork."

Her bottom lip quivered just before she turned to walk away. "That wasn't very nice." She grumbled.

For some reason, and I have no idea what that reason is, my hand shot out and found the back of her shirt. I slammed her entire body into the bay of dark blue lockers behind me. The sound of the clanking echoed for a split second before dissipating in the desolate hallway. "What did you just say to me?" I say through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened into dinner plates and just before I could repeat myself, she shook her head furiously.

"That's what I thought. Do you know me? Don't try and get chummy, bitch. You mumble some bullshit under your breath around me again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Do you understand?"

It was almost as if she couldn't believe what I'd just said. Hell, neither could I, but the thought of her being too afraid to even open her mouth while I was around brought some sliver of satisfaction to me.

A small whimper escaped her throat, but she didn't hesitate to nod her head. "Good." I breathed, and that should have been the end of the conversation but as I stared at her scrunched up face, her body was shivering perpetually and I don't know why but I was kind of—satisfying.

I let go of her shirt and took a step back. When she finally opened her eyes to look at me I pointed to her feet. "Take off your shoes."

She blinked once, stock still. "Huh?" She whispered, voice soft but unsteady.

"Did I stutter? Take your shoes off and give them to me." When she didn't move I began to lose my patience and my fist flew into the locker just beside her head. She jumped and a whimper escaped the back of her throat. "Do you want me to strangle you and then remove them from your corpse? Take them off now."

Slowly, she crouched down and began untying her Adidas tennis shoes. When she had them off she stood and extended her arms, handing them to me.

I snatched them from her hands and she flinched again, squeezing her eyes shut. "Now your bag." I tacked on.

She gave me a wary look, but this time didn't argue as she carefully slid her backpack off her shoulders and then placed it in my hand.

I backed away to the window just across the hallway and pushed it open. The rain was coming down hard and unforgivingly as it does on your average day in Seattle, Washington.

I made sure that Jillian was looking right at me before I took her shoes and chucked them out the window, as far as my arms would let me, followed by her backpack.

She gasped loudly and ran over to the window, just beside me. "Why would you do that?!" She squealed.

With a single thrust of my arm, I pushed her shoulder so hard she fell to the ground. "Fetch, bitch." I muttered, a genuine smile curving at my lips when then tears began to fall down her cheeks.

I crouched down in front of her and kept my voice low before I spoke, "Waa, waa—cry. I don't give a shit. And just try and snitch on me. I'll kill your whole family and you, too. Would you like that? Do you want to die, Pierce?"

Her bright red hair tousled around a bit when she shook her head. "You gonna tell on me?"

"No—" She whined.

"Apologize for yelling at me then." I demanded quietly, even though her whines were ridiculously audible.

She hiccupped a couple of times, her face bright red as the tears continued to fall. "I'm…sorry…"

"And for bumping into me twice." I said in a bored tone.

"I'm sorry I bumped into you." Her voice was desperate, like she was just dying for the whole encounter to end, but I was having too much fun.

"If you bump into me again I'm going to seriously have to hurt you, and I don't want to have to hurt you. So stay the hell away from me." I nudged my chin in the direction she'd come from. "Go away."

She scrambled to her feet, practically bolting away from me in the other direction.

That…felt…incredible!

I never knew that the answer to how fucking miserable I've been for the last 3 years could be rectified in an instant by making my ex best friend feel like shit. Is this what my therapist meant when she said I should try "projecting"? Cause if so, she's a genius.

I have to feel that again.

 **Present Day.**

 **Jillian**

Theodore's gaze wavered for a moment, but he collected those jumbled thoughts quickly. That foreign and distant light of uncertainty faded from his eyes before I could manage to latch onto it. He slid himself from underneath me and stood from the couch. Suddenly, the den began to feel smaller, tighter. He had that kind of presence—one that was larger than life itself, and when he towered over me it was even more prevalent.

"You want me?" He whispered, then something seemed to click in his head. "Drop your pants, bend over, and try to keep your voice down."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, face squeezing with discomfort. "Really? You think I'm asking you to fuck me in my parent's living room with half of my family down the hallway?"

"I'll admit that you're intelligent, but you've never been very sharp."

"Don't be mistaken. I have no interest in you sexually, or romantically."

Something tells me that he wasn't buying that. "Then you're going to have to explain to me, what exactly it is you mean when you tell me that you want me. Because I'm at a loss over here."

"I want to know that my suffering has actually meant something."

"Suffering?" Theodore chuckled quietly, then his eyes darkened. "You don't know the meaning of the word. Even amplified to the highest power, faced with some of the most grotesque and horrific images conceivable, you'd never even scratch the surface of what it means to be in chronic misery. To so desperately crave that your entire consciousness isn't searing, red-hot, agony? You have no fucking idea."

I kept my voice low so as not to disturb my family in the next room over. "Then I'll humor you. I don't care how much pain you've been through, or how much you may or may not have cried. At this moment, I care about myself which is something I've forgone doing for a long ass time."

"I don't expect you to care. I don't expect anything from you. It's easier that way."

Again with the cryptic, ominous condescension. It's driving me absolutely insane! "Again, I have no idea what you're talking about. Look, we're not teenagers anymore— lets at least try and get along."

I observed as a small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. Very slowly, he leaned forward so that his lips were just a few inches away from my ear and whispered, "Do you know how many times I contemplated killing you when I was sixteen years old?" He asked, and I felt a stone cold chill run down my spine.

What the hell?

"Too many. So many that I lost track. I thought of how I would kill you, when, where, what I'd do with your hollow body once I was done. I thought about branding you, suffocating you, breaking your neck, crushing your throat, throwing you off the rooftop at school before the bell rung every evening, gutting, laceration, over-intoxication, and that was just age sixteen." He brought his hand up and squeezed the lapel of my shirt, cutting off my air supply for split second before letting go.

Blah, blah, blah. If he really wanted to kill me he would have done so by now. However, that doesn't mean that his words don't partially scare the living shit out of me. The way he delivers them so calmly, a bit intimidating. But I know better than to shy away anymore—it just provokes him even further, I so won't heel.

"You could have," I breathed, "But you never did it. You were all talk."

His face twists into an expression that probably can't believe I had the gall to expel that thought. "I could do it right now, then. Right here." Gently, he ran his fingers up my inner arm. "Rip your skin off slowly." Traced along my collarbone before digging his blunt nails into the bottom of my neck and squeezing. "I could gut you alive."

I squirmed a bit under his firm grip, the panic slowly beginning to rise. Okay—courage gone, I'm full blow terrified again. "You're a sociopath, dude."

"I am, dude. That should come as no surprise. But what's more is how red your face is, how your eyes are dilated and that way you're panting like a bitch in heat." His grip on my neck rotates around to clutch the nape and tightens before he pulls me in close so that I'm flushed against his chest. "You're too damn stupid and delusional to admit that you're turned on by the thought of being lacerated. And you are, big time." He says, and my whole body quivers under his grasp.

"I'm not—"

"Oh, but you are, and if you ask nicely I'd be more than happy to appease you. Throw you over my shoulder, carry you up to your bedroom and fuck you until you're reduced to absolutely nothing, filling those tight little holes with my white hot need over and over again with your family just around the corner."

…Oh my God.

I tried to brush aside just how wicked that idea made me feel, but there was no hiding it in my voice. "You're sick in the head, Theodore."

"And you're turned on at the thought of me killing you. You want to tell me again that you're not a fucking masochist?" He gritted out. "You want to lie again?"

Tears prick my eyes as his words sink in, and for once in my life, I finally find it in me to pull away from his intimidating grip. So much anger and turmoil was bubbling from the surface from years of not speaking out, being too afraid to.

"I don't like it when you hurt me." I whisper-yelled. "I never have. It's humiliating and disgusting the way that you've always treated me."

One of his brows quirked up, "That so—"

"But after years of being bullied, tormented, and raped by a guy who I didn't really understand my feelings for, my body began to equate pain with pleasure and eventually I stopped being able to separate the two from one another." I spit out.

Theodore's eyes turned into saucers at my statement, his jaw finding the floor—completely speechless.

Even though my voice was breaking I forced myself to keep going before I lost the nerve, wiping the angry tears from beneath cheeks and carrying on. "So yes, my body may respond to your sadistic mannerisms, but that's only because it's been programmed to respond positively with some sick, twisted Pavlovian conditioning. It doesn't feel good to be hurt by you. I didn't enjoy crying myself to sleep every time you held me down and had your way with me and then left me alone as if I were a piece of trash. I don't know what the fuck I did to make you hate me so much, and at this point, I don't give a shit. It's water under the bridge because the more I let my fear and hatred of you control me the more helpless I feel. My mother almost died last month. I have to focus all of my strength and energy into her. I don't have time to constantly combat your psychoticism. I just want to live my life in peace. That's all I'm asking. If you can't give me your patience or your companionship then I beg of you—leave. me. alone."

Theodore's features twisted, and his gaze began to wander before finally settling on me again. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times. How do I even begin to explain how lost this man looked? It was as if everything in his world had burned into the ground, and I would have given anything to reach inside of his head and pull out the thoughts that lived there so I could understand why he looked as if someone had just stabbed him in the chest.

When he finally does speak, his words completely destroy me. He doesn't look me in the eyes, but instead at his feet, and those eyes are distant as if they're looking into a black hole—into nothing.

"Alone?" He whispers, testing the word on his tongue, then finally his gaze finds mine and is somehow clear and focused despite how far away his voice is. "You don't have any idea how excruciating it is for me to be away from you. Alone is what I feel every second you're not around. But even more painful is how disgusted I feel when you are around."

I hold my breath when he backs away slightly as if he's going to make a run for it at any second. "I never asked to meet you. My life would have been so much better if I hadn't. I would still be miserable, but I would have been miserable on my own, and I'm sure it wouldn't hurt nearly as much as this does. I wouldn't have had to cling so desperately to someone who never gave a damn about me to begin with."

I threw my hands up before slapping them back to my sides. "What do you mean by that?! Please, just talk to me, tell me—" He turns and stalks away to the foyer before I can finish that sentence. "Theodore?" I whisper to his back, but he doesn't turn around.

"Ziggy." I hear my nickname being called and jump at the sound of it. My eyes cut to the living room connected to the den and I see Jane moving towards me quickly. "I just got off the phone with Lance, he says he's still not coming. He says even if Blane did apologize he wouldn't…why do you look like you just had a blood transfusion?" She asked suddenly, her head slanting as she stared at me.

"What?" I mumbled, mouth dry.

Her face was flooded with so much worry as she held my shoulders and shook me. "You're as pale as a sheet of paper. What's the matter? What's been going on with you lately?"

I kept my vision trained on the gold Cartier necklace that hung from my sister's neck. One of the diamonds shone way brighter than the others and it was noticeable. I wondered then, at that moment how it reflected across my entire life, or more specifically the enormous gap in my memory that isolates a huge chunk of who I am and why I'm this way; Why I like the hobbies that I do, why I eat certain foods and not others, watch certain movies, wear certain clothes.

Sometimes I don't recognize my own face when I look in the mirror. But for some reason, every single time I look at him, I feel like everything makes sense. And I think that's why I could never truly bring myself to break away. It was like he had the answers to all of these questions, even though I knew deep down that he was just a bully and nothing more.

I held onto that resolve for years.

What…resolve?

The one where the nightmares return again?


	15. AN

**This story is done for now. It was a place marker for Phoebe, and now I'm ready to fix/write Phoebe. So this will be on indefinite hold. (:**


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